Jekyll and Hyde
by BadOldWestern
Summary: She snuggles closer to him, lips curved up. Suddenly he hates that smile. The story of the dark side of Katniss and Peeta's relationship, and how they heal together. Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

His body curls around hers as she sleeps. He's an outer shell protecting her.

She bites her lip, her brows furrow, she whimpers. She's fast asleep in a terrifying world only he can understand. He just woke from that world and watches her stumble through it. She frowns.

His arm is around her, falling asleep. It feels heavy and the nerves feel dead. His fingers were tingling a few minutes ago but now they ache for his fresh blood, not the trapped circulation he positioned himself in. he wants to free his arm, to no avail. Her arms are wrapped tight around it, holding it to her chest. He can feel it between her soft breasts.

He lifts his hand slightly to flex his fingers, and it hurts, but barely. It's too numb. He rests his open palm on her sternum, fingers fanning up to her neck. He glances at her face; she's smiling in her sleep. She snuggles closer to him, lips curved up. Suddenly he hates that smile.

His body jerks, and he knows even though he's clouded with exhaustion what's coming. His heart drops. His hands clench into fists. He opens them once again, to finally close them around her throat.

She doesn't even wake at first, until he squeezes, because too quickly he sees her as his own monster. He throws a leg over her and shakes her, clutching her throat. She tenses and tries to flail before she realizes it's him. Even in his stupor, he sees how she stops fighting when she knows it's him harming her.

She chokes a little, trying to say his name. Her eyes are locked on his, apologizing.

His eyes uncloud, and he blinks as if waking from a dream. His eyes follow his arms down to his hands to his fingers to Katniss, who watches. His hands slam into the pillows, and he presses his forehead against hers. He strikes to pillows a few more times, shaking both of them.

He sobs, still straddling her body, back curved down.

"Its okay, it's okay." She tries to amend.

He pulls himself back. Places a hand to her face. Feels her pulse racing. Sees how red her face is. Her hair is sweaty and matted against her skin. Her eyes are scared, but only for him.

"You love me, real or not real?" he needs to know. Needs to be reminded.

"Real." She whispers, eyes glinting. Her hand goes to stroke his back. "You know it's real."

"How could I..?"

"We're the exception Peeta. There are things we have to do that no one can understand."

"I did everything I could to protect you. Now I can't stop myself from doing this." He shuts his eyes, steadying his breath.

Her fingers comb her hair back. She holds her head up, staring at him with a mask of comfort that doesn't cover her fear.

"Call Gale." He orders. "Tell him what I did. Tell Haymitch, tell Greasy Sae, tell everyone."

She shakes her head. "I want to take care of you, I don't need their help." She hugs him tight. "We'll fix each other."

"Tell them so they'll take me away from you. So I can stop hurting you." he begs.

She couldn't tell him he was not hurting her. She was a terrible liar.

"If they separate us, you'll stop healing me." She says quietly. She starts to cry.

He continues to cry. She tries to get him to lie down so she can hold him, bring him back.

He pushes away from her, striding out of the room. "I'm calling Gale in the morning." He warns as the darkness of the hallway devours him.

He sleeps on the couch. She doesn't sleep at all.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes the telephone is ripped out of the wall. There's evidence of a struggle with bits of plaster hanging loose, and Katniss's hands are scratched and her fingernails virtually gone. She sits at the kitchen table, mug of tea in hand, not moving. She doesn't look up when he walks in.

"I'm sure you think you're clever." He mutters, taking a mental note to go over to Haymitch to use his phone.

She nods stiffly, taking a sip of lukewarm tea.

"This is dangerous." He says warily. "This situation is volatile. I'll end up hurting you."

"I can handle it." she says evenly.

"No you can't."

"Yes I can Peeta."

He grumbles, going to the sink to get a glass of water. He settles at the kitchen counter, his back to her, slicing a loaf or bread. From her spot at the kitchen table she can see the way his ear peeks out of his hair, the straight line of his jaw. How it is still clenched. She feels drawn to the skin of his neck, wants to see the intersection of neck and shoulder hidden by his shirt collar. She wants to free those tense muscles of his body into languid submission, feel them give under her hands and lips and skin. She wants to pull the down-turned lips and furrowed brow back up. She wants to change the way he holds his body. This disturbs her, and she instead looks at her mangled hands.

"Am I as bad as Annie?' she blurts out. He turns to her, confused.

"You are not nearly as bad as she is."

"Neither are you." she points out. "And she and Finnick…they had some semblance of a life together. If they could do it, we can."

He glances out the window. "A love like theirs…I don't know if we have that Katniss."

Her gray eyes go icy cold, and her face arranges in a familiar mask.

How immediately she could go from wanting him to hating him. Nearly as quickly as he could, but she had control whereas he didn't.

He pinches his brow between his thumb and forefinger. He doesn't notice her stand and walk over until she's right there.

"After all this, I'd say we have as good as it gets." She bites out, fingers going to his collar. She rubs the material between her fingers, stopping herself from pulling it aside.

His hand finds her hip, another under her shoulder blade.

"What's as good as it gets about this?" he whispers.

"Am I not enough for you?" she says quietly, hating the sound of her own voice.

"_No._ That's not it. But I try on a regular basis to kill you. And that's as good as it gets for you?"

"Don't you get if I didn't want to be here I wouldn't be?" her eyes can only look at his chin. She studies a freckle there, in his smooth pale skin, a lone island.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back. She gets distracted looking at how his eyelashes brush his cheekbones, they're that long. When his eyes open they find her gaze. She blushes. Her hand leaves his shirt, absently finding the collar of her t shirt. Her other arm crosses her body protectively. She feels a strange pull. Her heart seems to be in every part of her body, make her veins throb and pulse. Her feet try to plant themselves to the floor.

"We're gonna be okay." She chokes out.

His thumb finds her cheekbone, brushing over it, fingers curling along her jaw line.

"If you say so." He surrenders, unconvinced.

She raises herself on tiptoe and kisses him. Not a kiss to win a fight. Just a kiss that he returns willingly, the hands that were just resting on her body now clutching and pulling her close. She loops an arm around his neck and lets his body support hers. She doesn't want to breathe, or think, or move. She doesn't want time to go forward from this moment of just lips and hands, not quite wandering but not exactly in a safe zone. Her fingers trace up his neck and along his jaw, the soft underside of his chin. He flinches.

She opens her eyes. He stares back at her darkly. He only breathes through his nose. She knows. He knows. He's trying to fight it, and can't. She steps back, but he shoves her further away.

"Get upstairs." He warns. His intentions change. "I don't want to see you."

Her face flushes, and she knows he's not in his right mind, and he's sick, but it still hurts so bad.

"I love you." she says quietly, because she knows he'll never remember it, and right now, it means nothing.

He throws his glass at her.

He'd love her except for the moments he couldn't. She'd be afraid of loving him except for the moments where he didn't care about her love at all.

Peeta slumps to the floor, having a fit. She crawls to the other side of the kitchen, leaning on a cabinet. She sings quietly. Eventually he stops panting to listen. After a half hour he looks at her without flinching. She moves to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, not trying to reach his skin.

"I'm back." He says bitterly.

She kisses his cheek. "I'm still here."


	3. Chapter 3

He stands up after they watch the light turn gray. The house is always still, the air unmoving. Even they seem stuck in time. He wants to move, he strides across the kitchen swinging his arms. He means to stir the air around them.

She doesn't move from her spot on the floor, but her eyes follow him warily.

"I'm going to take a shower." He announces. She nods stiffly, lifting her hair off her neck and scratching her scalp.

"Holler if you need anything." She says quietly, not quite sure why.

She draws her knees to her chest and watches him walk up the stairs. He leads with his shoulders when he walks. His feet are bare. She stares at them, for reasons she can't explain her eyes lock on them.

Katniss draws her hair back in a loose bun. She notices the dirt in the bottoms of her feet. She hears the blast of the shower stream upstairs. She remembers his back retreating up the stairs. She wants to see the skin of it.

It's so natural for her to stand and skip up the stairs, down the hallway, into their room that they share but don't…facilitate. They hold each other. They kiss. That's it.

She nears the bathroom door and hears him sigh, the echo of it bouncing off the walls of the shower. She suppresses a shudder, and hesitates.

She needs to move soundlessly. Maybe she shouldn't surprise him…no…maybe.

She opens the door and shuts it silently. His back is to her. She stares at the bare skin as the water drips down it. She clears her throat.

He turns his head, jumping at the sight of her. He shifts uncomfortably, not sure what to do or how he should cover himself, almost forgetting she was intruding on him.

"What's wrong?" he chokes out.

She blushes, remembering herself. This was dangerous territory.

"N-nothing. I just wanted to…join you, I guess."

He nods somberly. He looks tired. He turns back to the wall of the shower.

She pulls off her sweater, and leggings, and socks. She leaves her hair in its bun. Taking a deep breath, she frees herself from her undergarments.

Katniss slides her way into the shower. He still doesn't turn around. The water falls against her shoulder and his back.

"Peeta…" she offers weakly. He turns over his shoulder. She presses her face to his back. His skin is soft under her cheek. She likes it. Her hands run their way up and down his arms. "Are you alright?"

"You don't have to do this…"

"I want to." She offers, strangely bold. There's a silence. She can feel him breathing, her own breath ragged and waiting. For acceptance. For rejection. Anything but this waiting.

"I want you to." He sighs out.

"You're allowed to look at me, you know."

He doesn't answer. She sighs, stepping in front of him. She tangles her fingers through his hair, slicking it back under the water. His brow furrows, but he turns his head to kiss the soft skin of her arm.

"If you'd rather me leave, I can just go outside…" she jokes hollowly.

"I want you here." He says, affirmatively, arms wrapping around her waist as if he needed to do that to stop her from leaving.

"I want you here." He repeats softly, lips brushing her ear. He presses her up against the cold tile wall. "I just don't trust myself not to…"

She feels stretched out, reaching, her body cold and warm and hot. She likes the feeling of her body splayed out between the wall and him. Her hand slithers up to the back of his neck, slowly trying to work out the tension building up there. "You won't. You're not gonna hurt me."

She moves against him, trying to feel _more_, to satisfy the dull ache he keeps sending through her body. He makes her want him, which she hates and loves. They've grown back together enough. She wants to try for more.

He grumbles quietly, kissing the side of her face. "We should probably get out, water's getting cold."

He pulls away and she blanches. She whimpers, feeling only cold now, and she hates it.

The impulse to cover her body, smack him, kiss him, throw him down and jump him, and cry, all at once or one at a time, races through her. She's never quite reached this shade of red in the face before. She tries to stutter out an argument.

"Peeta, don't." she grabs his shoulder sharply. "Look at me."

The light in his eye is gone. The tired look, the adoring look, to amused look. She'd gratefully accept annoyance or frustration.

She has a moment to brace herself before he grabs her, pinning her back to the wall. She can only see his blind rage.

The hand not braced at her neck reaches down, slips between her thighs. Touches her. If this wasn't now and it was five minutes ago, she would have thrown back her head, gone wild, mewled and bucked and made every noise he could have coaxed out of her. But five minutes ago he wasn't looking at her like that. He looks ready to tear her apart.

"Is this what you want?" he growls out, and she can only manage a choked cry.

The noise that escapes her is sharp and biting and terrified. He hears it; Peeta hears it, her Peeta. He remembers himself, not dropping her but drawing her into his body and holding her.

This time she shies away. With shaking hands pushes him back. She sits in the corner of the shower and he kneels outside it. Now they're both a bit frantic to cover themselves. He grabs for a towel and tosses her a second one, which she wraps tight around herself. She's shaking, and crying, and trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, what have I done? God, I'm sorry." he keeps saying it.

"You didn't do it." her hand hold the towel shut draped over her shoulders. "It wasn't you, I know, its okay. I just need to calm down."

She shuts her eyes. The first time he touches her and it's like _that._ It makes her sick. This was supposed to be with her Peeta, with his blush, and gentle words, and soft, eager, teasing lips. His hands, his hands that were so soft and nurturing. His hands never grabbed. Not like that.

She sees how he's clenching his fist, and his shoulders are shaking. His shame is worse than her own.

She reaches for his hand. The soft, safe one she knows. He tries to pull it free, away from her where it can't hurt her, but she holds tight.

"I know you'd never hurt me. It didn't happen. It's okay."

"But I did."

"It wasn't you."

"Yes it was." His voice rises to a yell.

She slowly crawls to his side, still holding the towel shut. "Look at me."

He looks up, blue eyes wet with tears. Her gray eyes match, but hers are ferocious.

"You did not do that to me. It was someone else. Someone we're going to have to fight, together. I love you." she kisses his cheek.

"Real." He answers weakly. "How can you look at me after this?"

"Because your entire face changes when you get like that, so I always know it's not you."

He shakes his head. "You should run."

The air is cold. The leaves outside are all dead, as she glances out the window, she sees the branches shake and the weak little brown leaves fall and fly away.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He presses his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and sighing.

"I can see you're not going anywhere." He kisses her, slowly, carefully. She finds she's not afraid to return it. She's not afraid of him, his body. How she feels towards that body.

The brief encounter was like burning her hand on the stove, the first moment was torturous and painful, but the throb and the pain got smaller and smaller. She knew Peeta. The real Peeta would never do this. So it was as good as dreamed up. From a sick nightmare.

He picks her up, gently, and carries her to their bed. Though it's relatively early, they dress for bed and crawl in together. He holds her, gently, space between their bodies. She tries to snuggle closer, and he'll stay a moment, only to move away as if he remembered what happened just a minute too late.

"I'm fine." She repeats sturdily. "Next time I'll be ready. This isn't going to happen again."

She says this, and every little argument she can think of to make him want to hold her.

"I want everything to be okay." He finally answers, drawing her close, kissing her messy hair, still in a chaotic, half-dried bun. His fingers tangle in the loose strands at the nape of her neck. He kisses her temple, her jaw, under her ear. He doesn't act like he wants to lay her down and take her. He acts reverently. As if committing the forgotten or overlooked bits and pieces of her body to memory is as good as orgasm. If even more important. She makes him sit up, and pull off his shirt. She sits behind him and wraps her arms around him. "I love you," she breathes out, a whisper like a moth's wing.

"I love you." he returns, his voice like ash.

Ever curious, she explores the knots and scars of his back. The knots she can fix. She kneads, not with the expertise he could offer, but with firm hands. She tries to free him from all the tension and weight and memory and pain. She presses kisses on the places where she finishes working out the knots. It takes a while, this strange massage. She gets to know the contours of his back, finally running her hands along his shoulders. She works at her own pace, half exploring, half trying to find, somehow, a way to touch him that will save him. He groans and sighs as her hands move. Her heart swells.

When she's released his back from its tension, she presses her cheek to his spine, between the shoulder blades.

"I trust you. You're not gonna hurt me. I'm not gonna hurt you." she swears up and down, into his skin, his neck, his hair, behind his ears. In the dark, she's less afraid of loving him the way she wanted. He turns, and lays her down, kissing her slow and sweet and just how she wants.

"It's going to be okay, it'll get better." He promises.

She closes her eyes, giving a small smile.

She drifts off to sleep with no nightmares. He watches her sleep.

In the morning, he's gone. Peeta left.

_A/N don't freak, it'll get less sad. This kinda changed directions as I wrote it. Oh well. I think it turned out okay. I tried to make Katniss strong; I hope she doesn't come off as weak. Reviews make me update sooner. Just so you know…_


	4. Chapter 4

Without a sound, she walks through the empty house. Sometimes, she has little fits. Nothing like his. She tears her hair and cries little hiccupping sobs. For him. For everyone else she's lost.

She's trapped in the house, like a pebble on a box that's being rattled. Too much space around her to feel at home.

She grabs her bow and sprints to the woods.

There's so much chaos in the woods. Twisting roots and dead and dying trees. Too much color. Too much scattered light.

She throws back her head and screams, until she can feel it in her stomach and legs and feet; it encompasses her whole body. Birds startle and take to the sky. She shoots one, in a fluid movement of knocking and arrow and drawing it back. It lands forty feet away with a heavy thud. She only breathes through her noise.

"Come back." she orders to the sky, her voice ragged and demanding. She isn't begging. "You can't just leave me like this."

She sees a squirrel perched on a branch. Fuming, she draws her bow and shoots it, clean in the eye. She's so mad she passed distracted and went back to focused, the fire in her melting away everything else. She just needs one task to throw herself into, to possess her, and she'll forget.

"We were supposed to help each other." She yelps in disbelief.

"Peeta!" she screams. No answer. The forest is still.

Katniss waits, for what seems like hours, for an answer. Her feet at planted in their places.

Finally, she surrenders, gathering her slain prey, and retreats.

…

..

…

She interrogates Haymitch, who has no answer. "If I knew, I'd have no problem telling you. If I see him, he will be taught a lesson."

She uses his phone to call Gale. No answer, literally. He doesn't pick up. She checks Peeta's house, something she should have done first, but it is empty. He vanished.

She makes her way, defeated, into the house. She kicks off her boots, throwing one against the wall. Another retreat.

She slumps in a chair and watches the sun set. She resents Peeta. She misses him. She hates him. She hopes he never comes back. She wants him to walk through the door, apologizing and kissing her. She worries if he's hurt. She pictures herself caring for him, cradling him to her bosom as she nurses him back to health. She imagines him perfectly fine, and sees them not being able to speak to each other when he comes back. She pictures him far away and missing her. She sees him in another life, with a happy blushing bride and babies and a nice bakery and a life without her sour face and mad brain. She resents him for it.

Can she forgive him for leaving, even if he comes back? She doesn't feel any better. He has a permanent stranglehold on her, in his absence. She can't breathe.

It takes her a while to realize she's been sitting in the dark for an hour. This makes her so mad she screams.

She stumbles through the house with no lights on. A miscalculated step leads to the corner of a low table smacking the corner into her shin. She curses loudly, with a little more volume than necessary. She blames Peeta for it.

After stumbling her way into the bedroom, she falls onto the bed, gripping her leg and cursing angrily. Blood has flowed down her shin and ankle, the steady stream of it making a red tree shape as it flows down her foot. A dramatic injury, not nearly as painful as anything else she'd been through.

She doesn't think to get something to stop the bleeding, or to keep the blood from getting anywhere. She just crawls to prop herself up on the headboard and bursts into tears. She sobs heavily, taking shaky breaths.

She lets her head fall back against the wall. Her bloody hands are useless at her sides. Every muscle of her body has been tensed since she woke up and he wasn't there. She's so tired. She only wants to protect him and she doesn't even know where he is.

She closes her eyes and they stay closed until she loses track of time.

She doesn't hear the footsteps on the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Her eyes flutter open. They flit around the room, glancing at the moonlight slanting from the window, the sheets tumbling from the bed to the floor, the empty air. She glances at the doorframe, expecting to be greeted by a rectangle of black, like it should look when she sleeps with the door open. Instead she sees a shape.

Her heart sputters and nearly stops. It's a person. His gold hair looks white in the stark grays and blues of hours spent asleep. At first all she can piece together is his familiar face, like all the other times she glanced up and seen it, in the dark of the cave, on a TV screen, across the dinner table from her. She forgets everything but the quiet, content thought, _oh, there he is._

There he is. Her heart kicks back into gear, trying to make up for the lost time it spent still. It takes her face a while to catch up with what flows through her head. He watches, weary-eyed; not sure if he should start explaining herself before accused or if he should allow her to let loose what was written, briefly on her face.

"Haymitch found me." He says tiredly.

Her eyes lock on the window across from her. "Welcome back. Sorry he dragged you back here." She spits out at him. Too many emotions were pinned on this past day, this absence. It's all bubbling to surface, and she lets it go freely. Whichever form it shall take.

"I needed to clear my head. And arrange a few things." He clears his throat. "Your leg?"

She shakes her head. "Just a scratch. Arrange what?"

He walks to the foot of the bed, kneeling in front of her. His eyes are full. "Let me help you." he murmurs, considering her bleeding leg. His hand wraps around her ankle, yanking her a few inches closer, somehow gently. She slides over the sheets, body limp.

"Don't do that." He snaps. She jumps. He shakes his head. "When you go limp like that…it just…don't do that. It makes me think…"

He pulls away, stalking off to the bathroom. She hears a lot of slamming and grumbling, and wonders to herself, angrily, what exactly happened to make him so pissed off. He emerges with a washcloth, a glass of water and some bandages.

He returns to his spot at her feet. She pushes herself up on her elbows to watch him clean the cut. His fingers dance over her skin that makes her want to close her eyes and hum low in her throat. Not much of a solution to their problems could be found in pulling him by the shirt collar over her till their bodies entwined and caged each other, but she could pretend that would fix everything. An embrace, to her, is enough to fix anything at this point. He seems so far away, hovering over her pointed toes.

He's done with her leg. She just notices, realizing she was staring at the juncture of his neck and shoulder again, watching it shift as he swallowed. She glances up to see him staring at him. They look at each other, wide eyed like newborns, shaken and stirred. She's scared to blink; half suspecting her lids will unveil his hasty exit.

"Come here." She demands softly, her voice like gravel.

His hands slide their way up her legs and settle on her hips. He sits on the edge of the bed and leans in, unafraid of being close to her. Their noses graze each other as he shifts his weight. She swallows thickly.

"I'm here." He murmurs.

She scoots closer, and his hands round around her hips to settle on her lower back. She tucks her chin into his neck, he does he same to her. She thinks about her collarbone against his chest, the skin of their necks brushing. It chills her down to her bones, then her skin feels as though it's been dipped in warm water. She presses her cheek to his. His thumbs tap a rhythm on her bared skin.

They breathe together. One hand lifts to tangle in her hair. They lose track of each other. His breath grows shaky. Her hands, once folded nervously in her lap, loop around his shoulders. She panics, matching her breath to his, growing frantic with him, for him, for herself. For them. What will become of them, these two broken people?

"I called Gale." He chokes out. She freezes.

He continues to hyperventilate. She doesn't breathe. He fidgets and cries and she does nothing, feels nothing.

"He'll be here in two days. It's for the best, he's going to pick you up and get you away from me."

She wants to shake her head but instead retracts, her body a cage made of wire and bone and skin, her thoughts sinking lower and more _in. _she pulls herself deep and doesn't want to be disturbed.

"I did this for you. I thought I was ready but seeing you again, this close…it changed things."

She realizes he's still holding her, and she pushes him back. He takes a seat on the floor, looking hopelessly up at her.

Her movements seem disconnected from her thoughts. She slips off the bed and out of the room. For once, he desperately wants her to stay close. He needs her within arm's reach.

He needs to save her from this pattern of attack-apologize-attack again. He needs to save himself from what she does to him.

He needs her.

He needs her.

She needs him.

"You can't make me do anything I don't want to do." She calls room down the hallway, obviously not in any room, but hovering around within speaking distance. "You can't force me to go."

"I know I can't." he answers quietly.

They both consider this.

"Why do you think I called Gale?"


	6. Chapter 6

Neither of them can sleep. As the cream colored shades of dawn touch the floor, Peeta rises and goes to look for her, in this big empty house they can't fill. He finds her, still awake, arms wrapped around her knees, in the hall. She glances at him tiredly.

There are shadows under her eyes, like smudged kohl.

"Didn't sleep?" he leans against the wall and looks down at her, crossing his arms.

"Can you tell?" she asks, the joke coming across a little more sweet and innocent than she wanted.

He closes his eyes. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head numbly.

He lifts her; she still weighs nothing, and carries her down stairs. He settles on the couch with her on his lap. He stares out the window, she looks blankly around the room.

"This isn't goodbye forever." He says quietly, kissing her brow. "We're going to see each other again."

"You're sending me away." She says numbly. "You're getting Gale to drag me off and out of your life. Stop pretending this is a good thing."

"You sound like Haymitch."

"He knew it was a bad idea too?" she bites out.

He sighs, heavily, and she remembers that he might be tired too, and that he's back home. He came back. Does that count for anything?

No. he's sending her away. Of course not.

"Haymitch doesn't like change. But he's no one to take advice from about this. Look at him."

"We need to look out for him. He looks out for us. He brought you back. We make sure he doesn't burn his house down or that his liver doesn't combust. We're getting better by helping each other."

The words leave her mouth, and suddenly she realizes she just made an eloquent argument to stay, without even looking to.

"Peeta, I wanna stay here and make sure nothing happens to you. I haven't felt as good as I do when I'm with you in a long time."

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

She doesn't like this. He's collecting his thoughts, ready to counter her. He's pulled back into his kind to be reasonable and logical and_ right_. She hates it. She wants to make him as flustered and reckless as he made her.

She remembers the mischievous glint in Johanna's eye. She understands what was so amusing to that girl before.

Peeta takes a deep breath to speak, but replaces it with a gasp and Katniss straddles his lap.

"Won't you miss me?" she prompts, letting her eyes widen. She was a good actress in a matter of life and death. Her life.

He shakes his head, fidgeting underneath her.

His hands find her hips, giving a squeeze that is unexpected but not unwelcome. Her hands are flat on his chest, palms against his sternum. She can feel each individual bone in his chest under her hands, and the rise and fall of his breathing. It takes her breathe away, this little flutter of life, to feel the pieces of him working and keeping him alive. Under her hands they feel like hers, like he's sharing them with her. He glances up at her nervously. He watches her observe him. She leans in and kisses him, letting him encircle her with his body. He lifts the hair off her neck, fingers moving along the skin, touching and teasing. She whimpers into the kiss and clenches the fabric of his shirt in her fingers. She writhes against him, under the spell of the gentle treatment of her neck.

He chuckles. "I'm barely touching you."

She shakes her head. Clearly, she believes otherwise.

She's all flushed cheek and swollen, kissed lips, loose hair and shaky breaths. He loves it. He's surprised by how easily she falls under his touch. How easy it is to make her open up to him, in a way he's never seen before.

He feels so good under her, and she allows her rigid skeleton to melt and she is boneless and languid against him. Then he pushes his hips up into hers a little, testing, and she feels it.

She surprises him, instead of gasping and sputtering and being so delightfully innocent, she simply smiles and pulls him into a deeper kiss.

She knows what she feels, and it's for her. This is the first victory she's had in a long time she can take pleasure in, without guilt. She loves that he's hard for her. Her hand goes down to find him.

"I wanted this for a long time." she announces quietly. She goes to kiss him again, but he pulls back a bit.

"We probably shouldn't." he clears his throat. "Not right now."

Her body, once fluid, snaps into rigid submission. She feels exposed, dirty, and she hasn't even done anything. But she offered to. And was rejected.

It burns, to her very gut, the humiliation, and she feels foolish on his lap. She jumps up and backs up, away from him. He can try to strangle her and she'll be glued to his side. But reject her advances and she can't be far enough away from him.

He knows the look in her eye. "I just meant not right now, I want to, but…" he shakes his head. "You may figure out this isn't what you want. You may find something better."

"That's for me to decide." She growls, adjusting her clothes. She's looking for something to say that will sting. "You're being an idiot, getting rid of me. You could have been smart enough to get some enjoyment out of these two days."

He stares at the floor. "I don't want you to leave any more than you do."

She nearly spits at him. "Bullshit."

He looks up at her. "It's true."

"You're sending me away." She shrieks. "And you don't want me."

He shakes his head. "Look how upset you actually are. Would you feel better when Gale got here and we had…you know?"

"God Peeta, you can say sex." She says, trying to patronizing because she will win this argument in any way she can. "And maybe in two days I could feel great and satisfied and happy if you wouldn't stop pushing me away every chance you get."

He stands and storms into the kitchen. "Clearly you don't want to listen to me. Every time I trust myself to be close to you I hurt you. I'm not going to watch you hurt yourself when I'm the one doing it."

She shakes her head, before realizing he can't see her, his back is to her. But she won't speak up she's too angry and hurt.

"So if it was someone else, you could watch me get hurt?"

His hands slam onto the counter. "No! That's not the point! I'm trying to protect you! Don't you get everything I'm doing is because I…"

He falls to his knees.

She hears the guttural noises, knowing she's lost him. The smart thing to do was get help, like she never does. But she doesn't do the smart thing. She runs into the kitchen and gathers him into her arms, letting him fight and try to shove her away. She only holds him closer, stroking his hair. She asks for him to come back to her. She asks if he can find himself. If he can let her stay, please. She doesn't want him to have to go through this alone. That she loves him so much.

None of this she can ever say when he can really hear her. And this makes her cry.

She still crying when his body goes limp, and she helps lie him down. He looks up at her as she sets his head on her lap and smoothes his hair out of his face.

"It's gonna be okay." He murmurs up to her softly.

She laughs through her tears. "I should be telling you that."

He shakes his head, smiling faintly. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, softly, like he is afraid of the answer.

"No." she answers, dishonestly. "You didn't hit me." This was at least true.

He nods.

"You're beautiful." He says quietly.

She wipes off her face and leans her back against the counter. She sniffles a few times, trying to hide this desperately.

"Do you really want every day of the rest of your life to be like this?" he asks bitterly. He looks so tired, so guilty.

"It's the least I can do, for everything I've done."

He closes his eyes. "You don't owe me anything."

"It's not like that." She looks down at him until he opens his eyes again.

"Every day for the rest of my life, no matter how it's spent, is good if I'm with you." she says steadily.

"You deserve more than this."

"That's not true. And it's not about what I deserve; it's about what I want."

He shakes his head. "You can convince me, I know you can. But how are you going to get that through to Gale?"

She shivers. She has no idea how to.

_A/N this story is friggin depressing, sorry guys. Also, sorry about my typos. I know I do that a lot, and many have overlooked. But I procrastinate enough, so when I finish a chapter its like, holy crap DONE. And I don't want to look at the pages anymore. Sorry. I'm lazy. Keep up the reviewing though, it really makes my day!_


	7. Chapter 7

His eyes ran along the curve of her waist into her hip as he stood in the doorway. It was late; he sat in the living room for as long as possible before going up after her. He needed to clear his head, of her, before spending more time with her. He needed to figure out how to make this up to her. He couldn't let himself regret calling gale. It was the right thing to do, it was the safe thing to do, and it was the difficult thing to do. It was for their own good. He nods to himself. Their own good. That's what it was for.

He finds his eyes stuck on her, the little shake of her shoulders when she shivers, the curve of her backside where her shorts have ridden up. He tries to blink it away, whatever images that want to surface. He shuffles in the doorway. She hears him and whirls around, tensed like a cat ready to pounce in defense. She doesn't relax when she sees it's him.

"What?" she snuffles out.

He shakes his head tiredly. "Nothing. I was just going to bed."

She lets her body fall back onto the mattress. "Goodnight." She mutters.

He fumbles with his pants; he usually sleeps with boxers and in a moment of panic worries if he's overstepping a boundary, even though he's crossed it months ago. They shared a bed like this so many times before. He needs to remind himself of those safe times.

He eventually gets over the indecency of it all and slides into bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in, against her muffled protests.

They lie there, staring into space, not falling asleep and pretending they don't know the other is awake. She closes her eyes tight and tries to ignore this boy at her back, always there, who is sending her away.

"You really think I don't want you?" he whispers finally, into her hair. Her eyes lock on the wall, widened. Her senses all shut down, only her ears work; she can only focus on his words. She nods dumbly.

He groans, his arms tangled around her, and pulls her closer still.

"Every day, I have wanted you."

She swallows, her throat tightening.

"And today?" she murmurs.

He grunts at the sudden roll of her hips. She's not sure if she did that on purpose, but she's pleased with the reaction.

"Today…I still do. As I will tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day."

His large warm hand runs up the curve of her hip. She's breathless. She feels him, firm and warm, poking into the back of her thigh. It's what she wanted to feel, but it scares her. In all the good ways.

"Now we can stop here, and go to sleep, and pretend this never happened. You can stop me." He says quietly. Everything in her body wants so scream at him to keep going. But instead she shakes her head.

"I want this too." She replies; though he can barely hear her. It flutters in his chest, his reaction to her shyness. He groans and buries his face in her hair, over finding an unchanged part of her.

The dark hides her blush, but he can practically see it.

"Look at me," he urges softly.

His voice has never been like this before, quiet and intimate, in a tone that made whatever he requested sound remarkably nice.

She rolls onto her side to face him, and he gently holds her chin and kisses her, slow and sweet and wet. A kiss that seemed to eat her up. She lets him.

He slides her shorts down, she fidgets and helps him. His fingers crawl over her underwear, and the whole of his hand cups her. She hides in the crook of his neck as his wandering hands surpass the hem of the fabric and tentatively stroke the increasingly wet flesh between her legs. She shuts her eyes tight, surprised by how all-encompassingly nice it feels. Her legs open more, and he grows more confident. His movements are more assured, and he slides a finger inside her, curling it, moving it around.

She fidgets at this intrusion, not hating it but not sure if it's supposed to feel like this as he seems to be searching around. Then her legs spasm and she bucks her hips involuntarily, realizing whatever it is he found what he was looking for. She blushes red at the noises that escape her, and he lips are at her throat, coaxing the out.

Sweat sticks bits of hair to her forehead. She's watching his hand, eyes glued on his movements. He watches her face, glancing down to watch what he's doing every few moments. Their connection is small and imperfect and raw, but it's theirs. And she's somehow glad to be so close to coming undone under his work.

His thumb moves unsurely through her folds, and brushes over her clit, and she gasps out, he moves back to try and find it again. He makes gentle circle around the swelling nub and she covers her face with her hands, trying to silence herself. Her hips move with a mind of their own, trying to gain more friction and move against him. It's awkward because she doesn't know how to gain more pleasure for herself yet, but her slides in another finger and she loses it. Her head is thrown back and she whines out, high in the back of her throat as she cums. It's a release that's been too long awaited and tears prick her eyes because the tension is gone. Her legs feel boneless. She feels free.

She grabs his face, wanting to thank him in every way. She kisses him fiercer than she ever has, in a new way that she'd grazed before but never really done. Her hand slips under the elastic waistband keeping him separate from her.

She is unsure what to do; her hand finds him gently because she'd overheard jokes about how sensitive that particular area is on men. The thought makes her blush; these thoughts always make her blush. She realizes she's silly, taking in her current situation, to be such a prude.

She wraps her fingers around him gently, feeling him swell a little more under her touch. He groans deep in his throat. She gasps a little, feeling the change under her fingers that she caused. She decides she likes it.

Her hand moves form the base to tip tentatively, and he watches her face, eyes steady.

"That's right, a little faster." He prompts; and she turns even redder, following his instructions. His eyes shut tight and he grunts. She bites her lip and increases the pressure of her hand around him, and he nods and welcomes this change. She moves her hand faster over him until she feels him tense. He moans her name quietly. Something warm and sticky covers her hand; she knows what it is but never really knew what it was supposed to feel like. She wipes her hand on the sheets as he catches his breath.

"Was that…?"

He nods; looking at her, without a smile, but still happily. She smiles, which feels like her first real smile in a long time. She still feels so wonderful and light and happy. She wasn't quite sure why she needed him this way until after he released her.

She cuddled into his arms. "Do you want to…?"

"yes." He nods emphatically. "Not tonight, but yes…I want to so bad."

She smiles. "Me too." She kisses him again, soft and sweet. He lies down and holds her tight to his body, urging her to sleep.

_Maybe tomorrow._ She thinks gleefully, watching him drift off to sleep.

Tomorrow.

The day Gale came to take her away. Her eyes spring open. Peeta is fast asleep, not noticing her panic.

This would be their last tomorrow, and before she knew it, it was today.


	8. Chapter 8

She hadn't meant to fall asleep. When she wakes with him hovering over her the way he is, she starts.

His smile is so big and so pure she forgets what day it is or even what life it is. It's just the glow to his smile and the joy in his eyes. It eases into her, warming her to the bone, creeping up to her face and making her smile in turn.

Her smile is lost, at the sight of the sun.

"What time is it?" she asks faintly, looking past him out the window.

"About eleven." He answers, kissing her brow.

She struggles to sit up; his weight covers a good half of her body. "Why didn't you wake me?" she's nervous, and curses every second that slipped past behind her back.

"We both know you haven't slept this late in months. And you looked so happy."

He seems guilty, but not enough. He knows when he's right, it's growing increasingly annoying to her.

She lets her head roll back into the pillows in frustration. She wanted this day to spend time with him, he's here, and he's infuriating her. Some farewell this was.

"Look at me."

She obeys, before she thinks better of it. But when she locks eyes with him, she's glad she listens to him.

He soothes her temper, lips finding her collarbone.

"It's our last day. You could always be sweet to me." His lips trail up her skin softly, leaving each bit he touched tingling as he moved forward.

"I would, but I'd rather keep you on your toes." she's not having any of his gentle words. Or so she keeps telling herself. Being sweet to him is starting to sound like a very good plan. As long as his lips continued that particularly nice work under her ear.

He smoothes her hair back from her temple. She closes her eyes as his hand creeps around her ribcage and holds tight to her back, another tangling in her hair. She tilts her head back, allowing him to do his worst, or best, or…

Words aren't coming, with the way his lips were working over her skin. Just a low scale of 'mmm' dipping down an octave with the gentle pull each slow kiss and bite leaves.

She's going to miss this, after-

After.

After she goes away.

She gasps deep in her throat, and he rolls off her nervously. He looks completely panicked.

"Did I hurt you?" his hands are up and off of her, trying to undo any damage.

She nearly cackles at this complete understatement, possibly the understatement of the century.

She looks at him; eyes empty, mocking, hollow, biting.

She's so sick of changing her mind, but she feels so torn. She wants to be close and is pushed away, but now…it's scary. Without the assurance he'll say no, she doesn't know what she will do when he says yes. She feels safe asking because she knows she won't receive. But now she can, and she could lie back on the bed and let whatever happen and not give a damn. But that's not how this works. She can't love this, savor this, knowing he's shipping her off. That her captor is arriving tonight.

"Tell me what's wrong." He's pleading with her, hands wrapping around her limbs to keep her on his bed. She evades his touch, sliding out of reach and redressing, feeling foolish in her shirt and underwear.

"Please, just talk to me."

She buttons her shorts.

"I have to pack." She says quietly. Her hands shake as she tries to braid her hair, and he watches; eyes wide and filled with guilt.

Looking only at his hands, once caressing her, now empty; he murmurs, "Maybe we shouldn't have…"

"We shouldn't have done a lot of things. What you choose to regret, that's up to you. But it is none of your business where I go and who should take care of me. You can voice your concern if it's you who looks out for me, but clearly I'm such a messed up headcase you can't handle me. Is you're done with me, leave. But you have no right to send me away."

He shakes his head. "You aren't seeing a doctor; you are in constant danger around me. And you will not listen to the danger you are in. I needed to get you with people who love you and will take care of you as you deserve. To not hate me for trying to do what's best for you."

His voice lowers, dangerously. "I've come so close to killing you. And you think me selfish for trying to get you away from me. From what I could do to you."

"It's my choice." She snaps, jabbing a finger at her chest.

She stares back at the wild girl in the mirror. Her lips are pink and her hair is disheveled and, oh, the bruising along her neck. She blushes at this.

She smoothes her hair back into submission, yanking a brush through the chaos. She makes herself presentable.

She finds her eyes in the mirror. Is this the face of a crazy, lost girl? Maybe. Peeta certainly would like everyone to believe so. Did he think her so mad as to need to be carted off?

It strikes her, that maybe, the best revenge is being the healthiest, sanest person in the room. And like that, she has a character. She has an audience. She has something to lose and everything to gain.

She has her game.

And like the punctuation of a grand speech, there is a knock on the door. So she smoothes her clothes, puts on a big smile, and breezes down the stairs. She brushes past Peeta, opens the door. She smiles warmly.

"Gale!" she makes herself sound surprised. Pleasantly so.

She sweeps him in a hospitable embrace. She tries to pretend the feeling of a body against hers makes her flush. And why not? It felt good, the warmth and breath and _aliveness _of touch. Gale is steady. Gale can trust her to be an adult, couldn't he?

Peeta watches cautiously, a few paces back, as Katniss is in her new arena, fighting for her freedom, smiling for cameras neither them are convinced aren't there.


	9. Chapter 9

She can be charming. She was charming and sweet and glowing when she really pushed herself. She felt her ribs would burst under the effort.

But she was the model of health and contentment, which made Peeta sulk and Gale smile.

Her great love watches her across the table, glowering, fire whiskey in hand. Haymitch was notified of the occasion, apparently, and stopped by bearing gifts. How thoughtlessly thoughtful.

"I missed you, Katnip," Gale simply draws her back to reality, back to her goal. She shakes this from her mind and smiles at Gale. He pats her hand, which rests next to her plate. Everyone's eyes rest on his knuckles as his hand stays covering hers. Katniss can't breathe. She gives a polite smile and nodded, taking a slow sip of water. And on her other side, Peeta puts a defensive hand on her knee. This surprises her. He is usually not the persistent type when Gale was involved.

She fidgets nervously, at the weight of both hands on her. Gale stirs little in her mind, but she's so angry at Peeta.

Even more so when his fingertips ghost over her inner thigh, feather-light but slow and teasing.

She nearly chokes on her bread. She shoots him a look that asked for no arguments. Peeta takes a casual swig from his fire whiskey. He seems to be engrossed in Gale's reports from District 2. He pinches her thigh, enough to make her jump. His lips twitch upwards as she flinches again. She pulls her hand free from under Gale's. Her hands settle on her lap, grasping Peeta by the wrist and holding his hand steady.

"Are you staying the night?" she asks Gale sweetly. He shakes his head, visibly uncomfortable.

"Honestly, from the sound of things, I thought I would be leaving this afternoon. With you in a straightjacket. No offense." He smiles at her sheepishly. "You seem to be holding up nice, Katnip. I was worried."

Peeta sees the pink blush form at her cheeks, and it stings that Gale's approval still affects her so much.

"I'm staying with a friend." Gale clears his throat. "But I think I'll be around the next few days. Just to visit. You know…"

To closely monitor. To catch her off guard.

In the back of her mind, something smiles darkly. They would not catch her. She wouldn't let them.

Gale made his farewells for the evening, kissing Katniss's cheek a bit too enthusiastically, but she didn't bother waving him off anymore. It wouldn't go anywhere, not with Gale. Just his grandiose plans that never fell through. Her handsome boy with empty promises. Even the promise she assumed he made to Peeta to haul her off. She holds back a laugh as she watches his retreating back.

She jumps as the full weight of Peeta settles on her shoulders. It occurs to her how much he might have had to drink.

"Oh Peeta," she sighs tiredly.

"What?" he plays innocent, kissing her cheek like nothing's happened.

She only sighs again, wandering up the stairs to sleep off this nightmare.

She nearly pushes him to the floor after he enters their room. He laughs, louder and happier than she's heard him in months, stumbling backwards.

"I suppose you're proud of yourself."

He grins good-naturedly. "It was kind of funny. And I don't think you minded that much."

"I did, quite a lot actually." She slides open the window, desperate for air.

"Please," he comes up behind her, staring out at the starry sky, "If you hadn't wanted me to you would have broken my hand. Risk I was willing to take, to see your face like that." He chuckles, closing his eyes. He turns back to her and seems strangely observant, like he's looking her over to see if she's the right fit.

"Wanna see the sky better?" he says, lower than his teasing.

She makes herself meet his eyes, because something in them makes her want to forgive and forget. "What are you proposing?"

He breaks their gaze and kicks the screen out. She jumps, watching him calmly crouch down to pull it from its frame and climb out the window. Once outside, he offers her a hand. She follows, breathless.

This bedroom window is over their porch, which had a sturdy, overhanging roof. She sits down and hugged her knees. He takes his place at her side.

They don't know what to say to each other to properly mend. But the sky is full and practically glowing; why not enjoy it together?

"Maybe I was being a little possessive." He finally breaks their silence.

"A little? I never let you do that under the table when people _weren't_ around. That wasn't your best idea, sweetheart."

He nods. "It's just, the way you pretended to be happy for him, and it made me sad."

She loses her breath. "Did you want me to put on a happy face, for you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I'd rather know. And Katniss, you're not okay. I love you, but we're not okay."

She hugs herself tighter, letting one temple rest on her knee, turning her head towards him. She feels too small with this endless sky over them, up on the roof, with this boy next to her.

"I guess I want to be strong." She says quietly.

His hand rubs gentle, soothing circles along her back. She leans into his touch.

"You are the strongest person I know." He promises her, his eyes fierce and loyal.

She smiles feebly. "And you need me. I need you too, but Peeta, I'm just sad. You _need_ me."

He closes his eyes. "You can't stay with me out of charity. We won't last if you have to take care of me."

She nods, looking up at the sky. "Well, you make me happy. When you don't try and send me away."

He laughs in agreement, following her gaze to Orion's Belt.

She continues her train of thought, "And I help you with your fits. So I think, despite all the pain, we're the only ones who can understand each other, and take care of each other." She grasps his hand firmly, squeezing. "You can't know how much you've saved me."

He smiles. They've reached a truce.

"Tell me what you want." She says finally.

"I want to stay here with you, in this house. I want to fall asleep with you every night. I want to take you back inside right now and touch you like I haven't had the chance to. I want to lay you on that bed and take you. And I want you to be happy."

She stares straight ahead, for only this one paragraph, spoken from his lips, could be so earth-shatteringly exact about what she wanted to hear.

"I think that would make me very happy," she swallows her heart, which is lodged in her throat, thrumming and fluttering.

He pulls her for the most convincing, dedicated kiss out of all the ones he'd had before. A kiss with severity, and a promise of dedication and routine. Daily routine. A regiment, so to speak.

She slides effortlessly through the window frame, pulling him along behind her. He has never seen her eyes quite like that. And he now is positive Gale never will.


	10. Chapter 10

He glances up at her, from outside the window looking into her room. His eyes are so level, so steady. And she can see what he wants. It sends warmth through her blood, tinting her cheeks.

He isn't nervous. This is what unnerves her the most. He just seems to _know_, what to do, and to start slow and gentle and work up from there. Katniss hadn't observed much, but occasional couple locked in a semi-public embrace she stumbled upon, to her own shame, had been aggressive and groping. Capitol people had been liberal about public displays of attraction. It made her fast twist in distaste. She didn't want the frantic, slobbery embrace for herself. She glances at her hand, connected to Peeta's, and she helps him through the window. Maybe she does.

He looks at her, considering her, as she over thinks everything said on the roof. She clamps her eyes back down on their hands, taking in the scar across her knuckles. One of many scars laced around her body. She doesn't even want to think about the utter mess her skin is. She bites her lip.

"Can we…turn off the lights?" her voice is small. She hides behind her eyes and nose and mouth, sinking behind the mask of her facial skin. Something crosses his eyes in the neighborhood of protesting, but he smiles and crosses to the lamp. Her spine un-tenses slightly at the click, glad to be surrounded by darkness.

He finds her in the dark, like he's always managed to do. His hands slide across her lower back; making her take a few small light steps towards him. They press together, her cheek presses his shoulder and he simply holds her there. She feels the steadiness of his chest, the shape of him. She wants to have it memorized, to know it. Maybe to know it's hers.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to." He murmurs softly. His voice is so good, like honey dripping slow and sweet.

"I want to." The words come out more convinced than she thought she was. He chuckles.

"Care to be more specific?' that voice, carrying on his breath sends a chill from her ear down.

She shakes her head, losing her spine. He squeezes her a little tighter. She grabs his hand, and leads him to their bed. She takes a deep breath, shedding her shirt and shorts. She bids him to follow her, turning away like his nudity deserved modesty at a time like this. He pulls off his shirt, and she looks at the way his chest and shoulders shift as he raises his arms over his head. He looks down at her, raising an eyebrow cockily. He caught her staring. He hasn't taken his eyes off her face. He can sense her posture, how rigid she is, and knows she's a bit scared.

His fingers run up her ribs, tickling her, but not in a way that makes her giggle. She sucks in a breath, trembling. He kneels on the floor in front of her, leaning up to kiss her. She accepts this, and relaxes against the warmth of his tongue teasing her mouth. His fingers continue to trace designs along her skin. She can barely breathe. He still hasn't looked at her. She feels the tips of his fingers swirl along her spine, her legs, her hips, her belly. It's tickling and teasing and she wants to smile and moan and squirm away.

She grabs a hand, nearing the side of her breast curiously. He looks up at her apologetically. But not too upset about what he was caught doing.

"We can stop. We have time." he assures her, but she places the hand on her breast, fully covering it. She shivers, closing her eyes.

"Look at me." She begs quietly. "Really touch me."

She tangles her fingers in his hair, accepting the kiss he plants on her cheek before dragging his teeth along her neck. She squeaks in surprise as he squeezes her, gently, his other hand teasing the straps of her bra down her shoulders.

"I will." He assures her, from somewhere under her ear. "Will you let me look at you?"

She nods frantically. That's all she wants, is for him to affirm that's she's really there, because he wants to see her.

She keeps shivering, and when his fingers find the clasp keeping her away from him, she nods, eyes closed. She feels the material relax and slip from her body, and the cold air making her nipples perk. She takes a deep breath, unable to look at him. Her eyes remain closed.

She wasn't expecting the warm mouth pressed to her bosom. She gasps deeply, arching her back, as his lips part and tongue slowly traces over her nipple.

"Peeta." She whispers quietly, unsure what to ask for.

He eases her onto her back, head on the pillows, and climbs over her. His mouth re-attaches to her body, this time the other breast. She writhes under him, accepting his weight and running her hands along his chest.

"I want to see you too." She murmurs as his lips slow down.

He lifts his head, and his eyes are so blue and his lips glistening and wet. She pulls him up to kiss her, and she rolls them over, straddling his stomach. He looks up at her, her wild hair and freed breasts, and groans appreciatively. She smiles down at him. She lifts her hips off him and crawls back, urging him to sit up. He obliges, pulling her into a few stolen kisses that she left out unguarded anyway. She more than wanted to give them to him.

Her hands cup his face, then his jaw, trace down his neck and hold fast to his shoulders. She runs her hands along his chest and makes explorations down every dip and line. She shudders, looking at him. She knew what that chest felt like, against her back and maybe in a hug, but not like this. She can picture it hovering over her, pressing against hers, maybe running her hands along him as she straddled him and…

She closes her eyes. She is too overwhelmed for this now. She loved every second of what they just did, but _that_ sort of thing, tonight, seemed too far away. He sees the sleep trying to claim her body. So he lays her back down, arms sliding around her in a hold she can't seem to sleep without, and, presses kiss to her brow and forehead and hair.

"Thank you, for giving this to me." He groans out quietly.

"I'm sorry I'm tired, I know you wanted to…"

He shakes his head, lips finding hers, reassuring, and filling her very blood with his affection. "We have time again. We have all the time we need. When you're ready, and not about to pass out." He smiles at her. All is well.

She falls asleep, nearly naked.

No nightmares.


	11. Chapter 11

She wakes to his breath.

A gentle _whoosh _of air, one after another, brushes her cheeks and brow and lips, almost like a living thing nudging against her skin. And she opens her eyes to see him curled towards her, holding her tight. Running his fingers along her bare back.

She startles, realizing the parts of her that aren't covered, and goes to move. He shakes his head, smiling. Her limbs go limp, and she bites her lip, surprised by how she obeys. She's a different person, softer and sweeter, shrinking from lack of air, like throwing a blanket over flame.

He, in return, gave her all of his usual gentleness, but balanced with a bit more force, a gentle push, or bite, or grab, countered by soft touches and words so sweet and slow she thought they'd dissolve in water. He rolls atop her. She lets the air leave her lungs.

His thumb runs along her hip, stroking over the few inches of fabric, the only thing covering any part of her. She turns pink.

"I hope you don't mind the light." He teases, knowing her fear of the open, unable to hide on shadow and rely on feel. This was visual, and details that could be lost were now up close and observable. This was the closest she's been to his body, and he's been to hers.

She allows her back to arch, meeting his eyes, strangely sure of him self. They are matched in vulnerability and curiosity.

"I'm sure you took advantage of the lighting while I was sleeping." She answers coolly, not exactly angry at him for it. She sets up a challenge; his task is to convince her. Explain his reasoning. Get her to agree.

He simply grins, and that's all the answer she needs. She rolls her eyes, ruffling his hair. "Pervert."

"Can you really blame me?" he murmurs, chuckling as he kisses her neck.

Her back arches a little more. "I suppose I can't."

He parts her legs meaningfully, pressing himself into her. Her hips choose to roll against it, a soft gasp escaping her.

"How does that feel?" he questions her nervously, checking her face and trying to control his urge to rip off the only things in his way.

"It feels nice," her voice is so faint and distracted that she's too far gone to lie. It's more than nice. Her heart has inflated to fill her ribs and wants to expand further. Her sex is pulsing against him. He presses harder into her and her gasps of air grow shaky. It's nearly too much.

His hand slides along the soft skin of her inner thigh, fleshier and fuller than they were earlier in her life. Her body was growing ripe and full. He moves down her body, kissing her round, silky thighs.

"You feel so good," he muses, bring one teasing finger run along her slit, not hard enough, in her opinion.

She whimpers, letting her legs spread. She's not thinking: he's chased away all her thoughts. If she could think, she'd be furious at him for it.

He presses the digit firmly into the dampening cloth. "what do you want?' his voice floating up to her waiting ears huskily. Her hands clutch his shoulders desperately, trying hold him there, and pull him close all at once.

She turns pink, biting her lip hard as her hips rise in a desperate attempt to meet him halfway.

Hand remaining at its desired location, he moves back up her body for a kiss, slow and sweet, savory.

She allows his tongue, gratefully, to make little explorations behind her lips. She smiles at him as he pulls away slightly, but her large eyes are nervous.

"What?" he places his hands on her hips, a safer place.

"It's just, it hurts…right? The first time?"

"We don't have to do that now." He brushes her hair back. "We're not going to do that right away, if you want."

She nods apprehensively. "But if we prolong it, do you think it will just make it worse?"

His lips find her brow, smoothing the furrowed features. "Well Miss Indecisive, I think we should take a break this morning."

Yet she pulls him back down, bare breasts brushing against him. "Don't leave." She demands firmly. Her legs wrap around him, she buries her face into him. She just got him back, just got hope that they would stay together. She doesn't want to see him walk away quite yet.

"I'm sorry I'm making you wait."

He chuckles. "I feel like the past few days, I've been that one making you wait. It's fine. It's not like I'm not enjoying myself."

She runs her fingers up and down his spine, and he shivers. "How long have you wanted this?"

"Well, I've loved you since we were five. So for about as long as I've known what sex is."

She wrinkles her nose at this.

He grins at her response. "I'm sorry I didn't just get enlightened to sex a few days ago, Miss Everdeen."

She smacks his arm. "Shut up, I'm not that stupid. And I thought about you and me," her voice gets soft, "_that way_, a few years ago. In the cave. I just kind of looked at you, and considered it. I decided I wouldn't hate it."

He laughs at this.

"But I've gotten shaken from this idea a lot, because people kept taking you away. I kept losing you. And then when I thought there was no hope for getting you back…" her voice wavers, "What did they do to you, Peeta?"

Her eyes water and she kisses his face, familiarizing the feel of his skin. They have both sobered considerably.

"What did they do to my Peeta? Why did they hurt you so much?" she nearing despair, for the boy people hurt because of her. if she had died, and he had won, there would be no revolution, he would live like a king, Cinna would be safe, countless others would have better lives, would still have their lives, Prim would be better fed, and alive. She never resented living before these last few months. There were days she hated every breath she took.

He knows that look in her eyes, the look that made her hard to wake in the morning, really wake. She'd rise hours later than normal and stumble through the day like a zombie.

He tries to squeeze it out of her; wrapping arms tight around her. Her fingers tangle in his hair, but her face is vague, and she's slipping away.

"I can't talk about it." he admits finally. "But I'm okay. We're going to be alright."

She nods, wanting to believe it. Knowing deep down she doesn't deserve it.

"Don't be like this. We need each other, just like you said. Right?" he gives her a weak smile.

They hold each other for a while, and rise from bed, and dress.

They eat breakfast in tense silence. She hates how the mood has changed, but she knows it's her fault. If she would just crack a smile, like he's desperately trying to make her do, everything will be fine. And she can't.

There's a knock on the door. It's Gale.

She knows her act, and she has to play happy. She knows her lies make Peeta sad, but she has to, or everything will be ruined. They have to look fine together.

She laughs and grins and throws her arms around Gale when he walks in the house. She chatters perkily, all smiles and fire.

But she hears the plates clattering in Peeta's hand. She sees his jaw tighten.

She races across the kitchen floor, too late. And he strikes at her, his eyes dark and wild, screaming obscenities at her, about her. Not her Peeta, but a different creature entirely. Back to square one. She fights him, forcing her arms around him and pulling him to the floor with her, to hold and hush.

She soothes. He goes limp. She whispers truths and realisms in his ear, stroking his hair. "I love you's" echo in his ears as she repeats them, fainter each time.

He takes deep shaky breaths, apologizes for the control he doesn't have. Says it's nice to be in her arms. She laughs tiredly and says they need to stop meeting like this, which they each find funny in a way they can only understand. They're in their own world.

So she nearly jumps out of her skin to hear Gale clear his throat.

"Katniss, how often does this happen?" He asks cautiously.

She gulps. She knows whatever answer; true or not, seeing it happen once was enough to convince Gale of the worst.

Peeta grips her tight.


	12. Chapter 12

Another boy in her life is convinced she's not safe. She's getting sick of this happening to her.

Gale suggests a walk, alone. She's scared to leave Peeta by himself to recover, but if she tells Gale this…things won't look too good. She needs to cover up.

"I'll meet you outside. I want to find my bow." She mumbles. Any time spent waiting for her could be hidden under the pretenses of 'finding' her arrows or some nonsense like that.

He nods, begrudgingly, and waits on the porch, leaving the door open. She has to work fast. She can practically feel his ears straining to make sure she doesn't get stabbed or strangled or whatever he thinks goes on without him playing savior. She rolls her eyes, turning her attention to the pressing matter in her arms.

Her lips find the skin behind his ear.

"I have to go now, are you going to be alright?"

He gives an affirmative grunt. She tangles her hand in his hair; the last thing she wants right now is to leave him like this.

"He can't make us do anything, he's not the authority, we're the authority." She promises. "If you need anything, go to Haymitch. I will not be gone more than an hour. If something happens, get help. Don't try to do this on your own." Something occurs to her.

"I hate it so much when you try to fix this on your own." Her voice is tense.

He chuckles vaguely. "And what were you doing before I got here?"

"I couldn't have you then. I thought you hated me. But I wanted you here every day."

He pulls away slightly, his big eyes looking up at her. "I'll try to be," he whispers, brushing his fingers along her cheek. She smiles, trying to assure herself and him.

She forgets the bow and joins Gale outside.

"What were you saying to him?" Gale thinks he has a right to know. That he's still that person in her life she can tell anything to. That nothing's changed.

"I don't think it's your business."

Gale laughs bitterly and shuts his eyes, shaking his head. "You know I can't just leave you here with him, right?"

"Actually, you can. You're not in charge of me. You can't take me away from my life."

"You should be thanking me for trying to take you away from this." He growls.

"Stop it." she hisses, dangerously. She strides down the porch steps. "I don't want to have this conversation here."

"I'm not moving, unless you come with me. For good."

She gapes at him. Her face shrinks back into an unrivaled look of anger.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"If you just let him attack you like that, maybe. I can't let you stay in this house with him."

"That's not up to you. Get off my porch."

He looks at her hopelessly. "Catnip, why are you being like this? You used to be stronger than this; you'd never accept this sort of treatment from him."

Her nostrils flare, dangerously. "You shut the hell up. you don't know a damn thing about trying to heal."

"You two act like the only ones in pain, like that war was all about the two of you. You could have died…" he realizes mid sentence how thoughtless he's being, but far too late.

"You will never understand what I've been through, what _he's _been through. You have no idea what I've lost."

"_Catnip."_ The familiarity in his voice turns her stomach. "I want you to have better than this."

He follows her down the steps. She tries to flinch away, but she knows those eyes. She remembers when she had a mother and a sister and a friend. She's lost in this world of an irresponsible father figure and someone she loved who couldn't love her 100% of the time. She does want to go back. She wants to wrench the hands away from her throat. She doesn't know what she wants. She swallows a sob. She hates thinking like this, but the thoughts rise up to her brain.

"I want to be here for you." he murmurs, and she turns to go, but his hands find her fast and then his lips are suddenly _there_ and warm and alive and she pushes, with all her strength she pushes away. A sickening slap does the trick, and he stumbles back. Something behind her creaks, but she doesn't register what. He glares at her, regarding her as one might look on a nest of snakes.

"You're destroying yourself."

"And you're being selfish." She growls. "Don't touch me."

She turns on her heel, realizing they never even managed to start walking and be civilized to each other. Yet he wanted her to run away with him. Gale had many romantic notions about running away, but he never seemed to know where to run _to_.

The screen door bangs shut. "Peeta," she calls, looking for him in the place she just left him. He's not downstairs. She stumbles up the stairs, forgetting what happened outside and just trying to see if he's okay.

He's seated on their bed, facing the window.

"Maybe you should go with him."

He stares outside, face vague.

She takes a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

Yet she feels no air in her lungs.

She strides across the room. "I assume you were watching. Now get your ears checked. He's an idiot."

She sinks down on to the bed beside him. She's going to play dumb and casual until the suggestion leaves his head forever.

"You two move very naturally together." He muses.

Her face falls. "Why would you say that?"

She's hurt, it's clear by how quiet her voice is.

"Because he seems to think he owns a part of you. And you didn't kill him for grabbing you like that, which is a miracle on his part."

"Stop." She closes her eyes.

"Seeing you together…" he takes a deep breath, "you do deserve better than what I can give you."

She shakes her head fiercely, grabbing his hand and kissing his scarred knuckles.

"You give me more than I've ever asked for."

He still won't look for her, and she longs for his gaze.

"Why didn't you choose him?" he's bitter at her for choosing to let him hurt her.

"Gale and I aren't good together anymore," she stutters out the words, not sure how to phrase why she can't love him like that.

"Do you think you're too damaged to live a life with anyone but me?" he closes his eyes, pulling his hand away.

"Stop being like this. I don't want anyone else. I feel close to you and I want you with me. Why wouldn't I want sweet Peeta Mellark?" she kisses him. "Kind Peeta Mellark." Another kiss, on his cheek. "Strong Peeta Mellark."

She pushes him down onto his back, climbing over him.

Peeta Mellark: in her next words; Handsome, loving, considerate, selfless, gentle, funny, nurturing. All punctuated with a kiss. 'Perfect Peeta Mellark' is placed under his ear, her hands pulling him closer.

He sighs underneath her, her body sinking ever so slightly into his breath.

"I shouldn't have called him." he admits. "I should have been the one to leave."

"You did. And if you do that again, I'll never forgive you." she's not angry as she says this. She calmly states it as a fact, almost soothingly.

He sighs again, wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck, bending her back down to kiss.

"How are we going to get rid of him?" he murmurs into her lips.

She smiles. "Let's not think about that now."

There's a crash, and some expletives sounding from outside. Haymitch. They glance at each other and laugh knowingly, even a bit lovingly.

"We should probably check on him soon," she murmurs faintly.

"I'm much happier where we are now." He teases her, running mischievous hands up and down her sides.

And she falls into him, letting her body run along his. She is lost in the sensation of molding breath into one collective gasp of desperate air. They breathe from each other. He rolls her onto her back, running his hands along the places he wants to explore, and she lets him. She kisses that bothersome part of his neck under his ear that always gets her distracted when she looks at it.

They pull away fabric like a great unveiling. Skin slides against skin. She feels him, pressed up against the part of her that seems to be waiting, patiently and impatiently at the same time. Longing yet ready, after all these years. And she's naked and bucking and he's kissing her face and going slow so she has the freedom to push him away and the fact that he's doing that only makes her hold him closer, spread her legs for him, kiss him back. She wants desperately to stop waiting.

He grinds firmly into her core, and she writhes and finally the word 'please' slips from her gaping mouth.

He rolls her nipple between his fingers and she takes fistfuls of his hair and cries out.

She pushes herself up against him, to meet him, to invite him.

And with some shifting of their bodies, he accepts.

She's ready and practically crying with relief at the lack of pain, only mild discomfort, and her entire body feels warm. He grips her waist so tightly and grunts, shutting his eyes. Her legs wrap around him and she kisses him, kisses him, kisses him, like she'd never learned to do before.

He leans back over her body, rolling his hips slow and gentle into her, taking his time. Anything else might make him burst.

"It's was going to be you, always." She murmurs, lips brushing his. He kisses her temple, fingers sliding down to help get her closer. Her legs jerk at the warm fingers playing with her, making her clench down on every slow thrust.

Warm, wet lips find her neck. Fingers dance over her clit. She's filled with him, everything she's left open to him is being loved and held and it's better than 'not hating it'. She loves it, more than she thought she would. More than she could with anyone else.

She loses it underneath him, almost numb afterwards with shock and exhaustion, being so worked up so fast. He gets rougher and a bit less rhythmic, the pattern of his thrusts lost and now random, and she runs her hands along his body, kissing him where he likes it and shifting her unlearned hips to try and please him. She clenches her insides, unintentionally, but he groans and suddenly she feels his release, warm and wet, coating her thighs and she moans again, quietly, with satisfaction. Her rolls off her and pulls her against his body, running his fingers through her messy, tangled hair.

"And we could have had this a while ago, if you hadn't been such an idiot." She points out, her breath still shaky.

He groans, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "Don't remind me."


	13. Chapter 13

He's in her arms; un-tensed. They lie languidly against each other.

His fingers trace up and down her spine; she shivers. It tickles. A few times she giggles into his lips. His smiles warmly at her, and with the sun hitting his face and hair, he's like the flower she always compared him to. Her spring dandelion.

She's still a bit breathless, with his lips over hers, arms around her body, legs still useless with satisfaction. He needs to shave. She still blushes at his closeness. His forehead rests on hers and his eyes don't miss anything. He pulls her close during her shaky breaths. His hands run along her shoulders and hair. It's like he's collecting pieces of her and putting them back together. She sighs, letting her body fall back into the mattress. He grins down at her.

"I suppose I should thank you." he murmurs, brushing his lips over her brow. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

"You were being all jealous…I had to show you how much more you meant."

He shakes his head. "I think you like me when I'm jealous."

Her mind is elsewhere, floating away from this perfect flirtation with him. "How are we going to get rid of him." she muses, twisting the ends of her hair.

Peeta sighs and rubs his brow. "I don't know. It'll be rough. But no one could take you away. We tried."

"So they'll take you." her heart sputters and stops still in her chest. Her grip on him tightens. His eyes widen but he only nods and returns a tight grip back.

"Don't leave me again." She says tiredly.

He shakes his head. "I won't willingly…"

She starts to sit up

"No. _no. _you are staying with me no matter what. Or I stay with you."

He pulls her right back down by his side, tangling her in strong arms that hold her steady.

"Maybe if I just hold you like this, they can't separate us." His voice is soft and unsure, like the fluttering of a moth's wing.

"We certainly can try."

Her arms encircle him, wrapped tight and strong like a chain vice.

No room for anything else but them.

No room for ghosts. Or mutts. Or monsters in human form. Or what they've had to do to stay alive.

He was the pure in spirit; she was the pure in body. Until they weren't anymore.

"My body hasn't felt like mine since the first games." She says suddenly.

He sighs. "I know."

"For you as well?"

"Yes."

She looks herself over. "But if things were they way they used to be, with these scars, I'd be considered disfigured and unmarriageable. Ruined."

He nods towards his prosthetic leg, eyebrow raised. "I think I beat you in that argument, sweetheart."

She floods with shame, but shakes her head.

"But you still look like you. And you can still walk and lift and you're still physically strong. Look at me." Her toes curl nervously at her own request. She's conscious of the network of lines raised in her skin, like veins. Her blood might as well be channeled through them; they are so much a part of her.

"Who'd want to live with this?"

"Me." He says immediately, like being asked a trivia question he knew the answer to, 100 percent.

She shakes her head. "You don't get it."

His sudden movements startle her, but not like his fits do. He slides her onto his lap. She feels too tall looking down at him, but he's raking his eyes over her stomach.

"They're healing." He promises, kissing the damaged skin. "And they only show how strong you are."

"And how destroyed." But she still kisses his lips, melts down on him. Smiles.

He shakes his head at her, tilting his face to really look into her.

"Rebuilt." He corrects.

She tangles her hands in his hair.

"I love you." he murmurs in her air.

She nods, because she can not speak.

And there's a demanding knock on the door, and Haymitch is yelling outside.

Katniss rolls her eyes and climbs off of Peeta, reluctantly, sort of scraping herself off of him to get those last moments of skin sliding over skin.

She pulls shorts and a shirt on, stumbles down the stairs. He dresses and follows.

Haymitch looks annoyed. Gale is leaning on him, wincing sheepishly.

"Your boyfriend twisted his ankle. I saw him fall." Her former mentor growls.

"Are you alright?" she asks Gale curtly, "Should you go to a doctor?"

Shouldn't he go somewhere that isn't her house?

"I just need to rest it." he says, missing her tone, or choosing not to hear it. They're grown apart so much she's not sure if he can't understand her meaning or if he does and she just doesn't understand him getting the message and ignoring it.

"Let me help you inside." She says, uninvitingly.

She helps him into a kitchen chair, not the couch.

Peeta trails behind her and gently runs a hand along her back. She leans into the touch. She smiles at him. She fetches some ice for Gale's ankle.

"I don't think I can walk on it for a while." Gale says, clearly not regretful. It's swollen and painful looking. He's not lying. What a happy accident for him.

Katniss and Peeta exchange glances. Gale isn't going anywhere for a while.


	14. Chapter 14

She knows Peeta is not happy. He's fuming, actually, as he helps her move Gale to the guest room, unable to walk on his hurt ankle. He stares straight ahead, jaw clenched. He breathes throw his nose. His nostrils flare. She's never seen him annoyed like this.

She helps Gale to the bed, and he settles into it comfortably. She lifts his pant leg slightly over his ankle. It's black and blue, even a bit purple, and swollen. This isn't something he can pretend to have. She winces at the sight of it.

"I'll get you some more ice, is there anything else you need?" she says softly.

"Some water I guess. Sorry to be a burden, Catnip."

"You're not. It's not like you could help It." she gives him a weak smile, and rises to get the ice. Peeta's hand closes over her own, pulling her out of the room a little forcefully.

"Are you sure he's not faking it?"

She glares at him. "He can probably hear you. And no, did you see that ankle? The color was inhuman."

Peeta sighs heavily. "I know. I guess this is just our luck."

She kisses him. "We'll get him out of the house soon enough. We just need to get through this."

He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. Katniss notices the gold stubble lining his jaw. Her eyes lock on it, and how the light from the window hits his face, and she knows that there's no choice to make, there's never been a choice to make. He clears his throat, "He's going to try something weird. I don't know what it is…but he's going to do something stupid."

"And I won't let him get away with it," she promises, brushing his hair back off his forehead. "If you can't trust him, trust me."

He sighs again, and slides his hands over her hips. She holds his face, feeling the scratch of his stubble and smiling. He raises his eyebrows at her, wondering why she seems so captivated with his chin.

"You look kind of sexy when you don't shave." She admits.

Her eyes snap up to him, both of them are wide-eyed in shock. She's never slipped like this, never talked like this to anyone. She holds her breath, as he leans down and kisses her, slow and thankful and _hers_. This kiss is _for_ her. Its a little thank-you present ties in a bow.

"I should get the ice." She says shakily.

He leans his head back against the wall. "Okay."

She finds Haymitch in the kitchen.

"If this is an elaborate ruse to have Gale take me away, I will kill you."

Haymitch glares at her. "I believe you. And you didn't see this guy bite the dust outside my yard. It was the funniest thing that happened all week."

She rolls her eyes, filling a dishtowel with ice. "Go call a doctor."

"You do it."

She shoots him a withering look. "Our phone isn't working."

He glances at the bits of plaster hanging out of the wall and the sawed up wires. "Your phone ran away."

But he leaves anyway, and from the window she can see him dialing when he gets to his house. She smiles.

She takes a deep breath, and goes back down the hallway to the guest room. Peeta hasn't moved, and is watching her carefully. She doesn't like the abused-puppy-dog look in his eyes. She brushes past him and breezes to Gale's side, tossing him the bundle of ice. "Haymitch is sending for a doctor. Hopefully we can get this taken care of and all healed up soon."

He glances around the room, nodding. He looks tense.

"Something wrong?"

"There's just…someone…expecting me back soon."

Someone, you mean…" she takes a seat by his side.

"Not like that, not exactly, or at least, not yet. But yes."

She closes her eyes and nodded. "But you kissed me." She accuses, watching his face carefully.

"I know. Because I miss you. And when I look at you, I remember how things used to be, how they could have been…"

She shakes her head. "Prim's death changed a lot of things."

He sits up, grabbing her shoulders. "You know how sorry I am, how could I have known-?"

She shakes her head again, pulling out of his reach. "I don't blame you. But it always reminded me, those bombs, you were so proud of them. I can't think about it."

"What was I supposed to do? It was a war; I never thought I would hurt you."

He's pleading, trying to see any form of forgiveness in her eyes, but while she dismisses blame, she dismisses trust.

"Don't make me think about it any more than I have to, I can't think about her."

"Katniss, please, don't bear a grudge forever…"

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it." she chants, closing her eyes tight.

And in an instant, an arm reaches out and saves her.

Peeta guides her up off the bed.

"She said not to talk about it, and if you say anything about it again under this roof, I'll break your jaw." He growls, and she has never seen his anger directed at anyone else. "Come on," he murmurs softly by her ear. "Come on."

And he leads them to their room, and she realizes she's been crying, and still is. Because her baby sister, the one that she got into this whole mess trying to defend, is gone. And she blames her best friend and she's so messed up. And she damaged this boy, almost beyond repair, and he won't stop loving her despite it. And her love for him is equal to her guilt.

"Lie down," he instructs, and she does, numbly, and he helps her out of her shoes. He kisses her brow. He rubs her back. He kisses every inch of her face, begging her to stop crying. He tells her how much he loves her. He curses Gale. He begs her to get out of the house, to go hunt, to go bother Haymitch, anything. To let it go. To stop crying.

She buries her face in a pillow and says she just wants to sleep.

And to never wake up.

He chokes hearing this, holding her tight, and begging to hear the lies of that statement. But she falls silent.

There's a knock at the door. The doctor for Gale. He hesitates, but he hurries out of the room to answer it.

And she thinks about Prim, how pretty her hair and pale skin would look on a young woman, how many children she should have had, of the love she deserved from a sweet boy like Peeta.

Yet Katniss got the wealth, the power, the boy, and all the unhappiness in the world. And she felt utterly undeserving of all of those things, except for one.


	15. Chapter 15

He can't get her to wake up. She's not asleep, exactly, her eyes are open but she barely blinks, her eyes don't move, don't register the changing light.

At first, he climbs in bed behind her and rubs her back again. She doesn't move, doesn't even relax into his touch like she usually does.

"You gotta get back up, sweetheart." He murmurs soft, encouraging things on her ear. She doesn't hear them.

He can't read her expression. She only stares at the wall, all the thoughts in her mind muddled behind a blank face.

She feels feverish and is barely conscious of the warmth around her. She can't acknowledge his body.

He kisses her cheek, her brow, her chin, her lips, the softest part of her neck.

"Look at me, look at me," he begs over and over, trying to get her to recognize him. She's gone. She's sunk into the deepest pockets of her mind and he can't reach her there. She's too vague and fuzzy and lost. Her eyes are glazed over.

She whimpers when his voice grows desperate and harsh, and he straddles her body and shakes her by her upper arms. She still won't snap out of her trance.

He tries not to yell. Gale's downstairs, his ankle keeping him from snooping upstairs but his distrust keeping his ears sharp.

In her mind, she doesn't know what to do. At this moment. Tomorrow. For the rest of her life. She's stuck.

He hasn't seen her like this in weeks. She usually gets out of bed, no problem, and smiles, and laughs, and reacts.

"Please, for me, let's go get you some breakfast. Just a little something to eat. Do it for me." He begs her, pulling at her hands. She shakes her head, moaning softly, and rolling onto her other side. He smoothes her hair back.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please. Don't listen to what Gale says. I can get him out of the house now, is that what you want?"

She glances back at him. She shakes her head.

"What do you want?" he's pleading with her, to give him something to do that can save her from this pain. He takes her hand. "Katniss, I… I'm so sorry."

She knows what he's apologizing for, yet she doesn't. She doesn't know why. None of it is his fault. Sure, he's gotten in the way and made her worry and given her a weakness beyond anything she could ever understand. But she could never resent him for this pain. In her eyes, he could never do anything wrong, not truly wrong.

"I wanna sleep." She slurs, and rolls back over onto her side.

"Sleep isn't going to make this go away…" he says quietly, trying to guide her to sit up.

"Leave me alone," she mutters, fighting his grip and flopping onto her side. She buries her face in the pillows. He watches her for a few minutes, running his hand along her back a few times.

He goes to Haymitch for help.

Their former mentor sits on his front porch, sleeping. He's surrounded by bottles, because Katniss keeps forgetting to go over to his house and help him clean up. Peeta nearly trips on one of them rolling across the steps, and kicks it, angrily. It falls to the rocky dirt road between their houses and clanks noisily. This wakes up the other fallen victor. He grumbles, rubs his eyes, and sits up.

"What is it, kid?"

"She needs help." Peeta glares at him. "Why didn't you try to get someone down here before? Gale said somethin about Prim, and she's…shut down. She won't get out of bed."

"Let her have her off moment. You can't drag her out of bed, she doesn't respond to that sort of stuff. Look at the mess you're in now, because you tried to get her out of here against her will. Speaking of which, you better get back to your house before her boyfriend carries her off."

"He's not going to, and I only know that because he physically can't right now."

"Just ride out the breakdowns. She does the same for you." and Peeta nearly spits hearing this, and turns on his heel, tripping over another bottle, and goes back to the house.

When he re-enters their room, she hasn't moved form her previous spot. She does, however, speak.

"Do you ever hate me, for what happened to your family?"

He goes to her, tangling her in his arms. He thinks this is what's bothering her. "The things I say during my fits, you know they're not true. I don't hate you."

"I'm not talking about that. Do you ever hate me for what happened to the district?"

"No, no. Please don't think like that." He pulls her close.

"Sometimes I hate you."

They consider this for a while. He doesn't know what to say. She takes a shaky breath.

"If I hadn't cared about you so much, I wouldn't have been in trouble with the capitol. I would have won, and mourned you a little, and lived with my mother and sister, under the radar, for the rest of my life. But you made me care about you."

He sighs, and tries to wade through the absolute punch in the stomach that last statement was.

"And then I fell in love with you." she says, staring angrily at the wall. "And we started a revolution together, and you wanted the capitol overthrown and freedom and no more games, but I just wanted to keep my sister safe. Look who got what they wanted."

"I wanted you alive. I wanted you happy. I wanted you. We can't take anything back." he says finally.

She sighs, and closes her eyes. "You always get what you want."

"For a price." He reminds her. And she remembers his family. His leg. His mind. His losses.

"If I always get what I want, will you please come downstairs and eat some dinner?" he kisses her cheek. "It's what I want."

"For a price." She answers, and pulls him over her, and she cries into his chest, and he smoothes her hair and shushes her and kisses her.

"You know how your fits are quick, and you don't feel like yourself?" she mumbles into his chest.

"Yes."

"When I hate you, that's what it's like. And I really love you. Is that enough?"

"That's more than I could ever ask for." He holds her close, cradling her.

She climbs over him and walks towards the door, staring at him.

"Can you make cheese buns?" she asks quietly.

He smiles. "Whatever you want."


	16. Chapter 16

"I miss Prim." She says finally, after finishing the last of the cheese rolls.

He glances up at her from across the kitchen table. This was new. She rarely addressed her grief. It was a big vague something that hovered over them, but she never stated the causes.

She continues, fiddling with a napkin. "She would be happy to see you here with me," and she means it, with the small, tentative smile she offers him.

He gulps, unable to express his gratitude for probably the highest praise Katniss could offer him. So they sit their quietly, smiling shyly at each other.

There's a knock on the door. Katniss jumps and Peeta goes to answer it. It's a girl, well, a _woman_ would be more suggested by her ample curves, but she looks much younger than them.

"Is Gale here?" she rises on her toes, trying to peer past Peeta into the house.

Peeta clears his throat uncomfortable. "Yes, uh, why do you ask?"

"Well, we came here together; we need to get going soon. I brought crutches." She motions to them, propped up on the porch railing.

Katniss takes a tiny breath behind his shoulder, not missing the meaning of 'we' and brushing past Peeta to grab the crutches. "I'll help him outside."

Her voice is acidic, but it's wasted on their guest. The girl on their steps smiles at them, blinking her wide eyes. Peeta flinches, knowing she's not happy about this turn of events.

Gale is out the door without explanation. He leaves silently, grimly, his lips set in a thin line. Katniss stands in the hallway with her arms crossed, watching them leave. Peeta shuts the door behind him.

No one says goodbye.

He leans against the door, looking her over.

"He really gets to you, doesn't he? You still care."

She shuts her eyes. "You can't un-write that history. We could have been very happy, in another life."

His nostrils flare. "I hate that you look fondly on a 'could've been' with Gale."

She rolls her eyes at him. "Well there's nothing either of us can do to change that."

And with that, he strides across the room, grabbing her waist roughly.

At first she thinks he's having a fit. But he seems so in control. His movements are calculated and deliberate. He's just pissed off.

He draws her to his body, pressing her flush up against him. He kisses her, hungrily. He's claiming her. He's possessing her.

She goes limp in his arms, allowing herself to be carried upstairs and kissed and undressed. Because he happens to be very attractive when he's jealous.

And he's rough with her, as if he wants all of her at once and she loves it. He's grabbing and gripping and pushing. So when he falls on top of her and fills her, she knows it's him. She knows there will never be anyone else. History be damned.

And she understands, in some way, that Peeta just wants to make her _his. _She consents to this, willingly, though not verbally.

He rolls his hips into hers, slowly but roughly. There's a lot of force in his movements and it makes her head fall back and her breath only come in gasps.

"You know how much I love you." he grunts into her ear, grabbing her thighs and lifting her legs to wrap around his back. He's reached a new angle inside her and its making her lose words. She nods dumbly. "I stayed alive for you." his lips latch onto her neck.

"Thank you." she whimpers, for his life, for his love, for doing that particular thing with his lips at that moment.

"And I hope you know I belong to you."

"I know, I know Peeta, thank you."

"Say it again…" he whispers in her ear, kissing the skin underneath.

"What?" she asks faintly, pushing her hips into his and moaning softly.

"My name, say it." he grunts.

"Peeta." She says in a low voice.

She says it over and over again, louder, than softer, then approvingly, then in shock. In every what she can, it's a mantra of varying meaning.

"Peeta…Peeta…Peeta…Peeta!"

And she rakes her nails down his back and arches into her orgasm, covering her mouth with her hand. He grips her hips and roughly pushes in and out of her, prolonging the ripples of pleasure, until he loses himself into her heat.

But he's not done. He kisses down her body, lips playing with her breasts.

She chuckles fondly, then whimpers at the contact, though it's brief. He continues downward, past her navel. She jumps.

"Peeta, don't." she tangles her hands in his hair. "Not there. Don't."

He can't see the reason not to. "Why not?"

"Because…I just feel…weird about it."

He rests his chin on her stomach. "Weird as in you don't understand or weird as in it disgusts you?"

She blushes at this. "I don't know." She glances out the window. "Does it feel good? There, I mean."

He laughs softly, fondly. Even a little absently. "From what I've heard. Can you trust me on this?"

She blushes. She doesn't want this exposure, this vulnerability, of his face so close down…there. She covers her face in her hands.

He crawls back up her body. He moves her hands. "Tell me when to stop, okay?"

"I just…I want it if it's good, but you take this stuff so seriously. You really look at me, when I let you do this sort of thing. You examine me. It makes me nervous."

"Do you not like it?"

He's caught her there. "I like it." she admits shyly. "I'm just not used to it. I'd never let anyone else do this."

He nods.

"Gale isn't even in the picture anymore. You brought him here."

"A choice I am increasingly regretting."

"okay." She rests her head on the pillow and removes her hands from his hair, folding them on her stomach.

And he kisses down her belly. He opens her up, and kisses her, there. And she bucks immediately, hands untangling to find something to hold onto. Her legs part, and he guides them wider open.

He wasn't lying. It felt good. She breathes shakily as his tongue moves along the natural lines of her person and finds her clit, sucking gently. She lets out soundless cry and moves her hands back into his hair. It takes no time for her to come undone, noisily, a rare feat for her. But this is for Peeta. She smiles about how this is equally about him as it is for her, each lying satisfied in the wake of her climax.

"I'm starting to think you like me when I'm jealous." He nuzzles his nose into her cheek, wrapping his arms around her. She smiles, and strokes a finger along the stubble of his jaw.

"Maybe. I see you haven't shaved."

"You said it was sexy." He grins, and kisses her softly.

"It scratches my face." She points out.

He rubs his chin up and down he cheek. "We can't have that, can we?"

"Maybe on special occasions."

"Gale wanted you. A lot. Could you see that in his eyes?" he looks at her intently.

"No." she admits, blushing.

"It was…infuriating. I don't know. You're more patient than I am with him."

"Peeta…" she kisses his brow. "I may have been happier with him, in another life. But it's a different kind of happiness. I wouldn't appreciate him, as I do you. As I try to do for you. I'm not very good at it." she closes her eyes. "Oh my god. I told you I hated you. I said _awful _things to you."

"I say awful things to you too."

"But you're not in control of yourself all the time. Yet." She adds onto the end.

"Neither are you. So we'll have to trade off."

She smiles. "Thank you for…you know. You didn't have to do that."

"You should try to get better at accepting the love you deserve." His fingers trace absently along her lower back. She shivers.

"I try, but…"

His fingers run over a deep scar, and he freezes.

She slides away and stares up at him, as he shuts his eyes tight and tries to take deep breaths but he's torn away from himself. She holds herself on top of him, trying to make him resist the violent shaking of his body. He curses her, and her skin, and her presence. She shakes her head against him, gripping him tight, crying. He pushes her off, and as she goes to reach for him, he slaps her.

She freezes, and flinches away.

Just as he finds himself.

Because in his mind, he can't ever hurt her. It's so strong that his madness can't even cloud that essential moral code.

But he sees the red splotch discoloring her cheek. She's lifts her hand to covered it, but she's stunned.

So he grabs his pants and leaves the room.

She waits for the front door to slam. It doesn't. He stays in the house.

But every few minutes, when she calls him back, he doesn't answer.


	17. Chapter 17

She knocks furiously at the door as the sun rises. He locked himself in the guest room and that's the last she's heard from him.

"Peeta, please, its okay, open the door."

Silence. Its almost makes its own noise around her, bouncing off the walls of the house.

She waits, for longer than she should, for an answer.

"Peeta…" she says softly. "Please, just let me in. I'm fine. I want to see you."

No answer.

And she panics.

"Peeta, please, just answer me. Are you okay?"

She pounds on the door.

"Peeta!" she screams. "Answer me."

She frantically tries the lock, her hands trembling.

"Peeta, I'll kick down the door," she bellows, and shoves her shoulder into the door.

With her weight on it, he opens the door, and she collapses into his body. He holds her carefully until she rights herself. He won't look at her.

"Peeta, it's okay, you had no control over it."

"Shut up." he says darkly.

She suspects fit, and she goes to hold him. But he doesn't shove her away. He just moves away from her. He's in rigid control of himself.

"It's okay…" she says softly, unconvincingly.

He closes his eyes, and he doesn't look as angry, but sad. "I swore that I would never do that to someone I care about."

"You didn't."

"Stop pretending I'm not accountable for my actions when I hurt people."

"You're not. Peeta, this is something we have to beat, you can't just decide to stop having fits. This is going to take work. But I want to help."

"And bear my abuse? To have me treat you worse than my mother did to her family?"

And she shushes him. She crosses the room to him, but he moves away. She still reaches for him, and her fingers brush along his arms. She pulls her own arms back into herself, crossing over her torso, hands settled near her neck.

"You would never do that to me. This is something you can't control."

"That doesn't make you any safer."

"I wasn't prepared. I get too soft. I need to be ready for It." she clears her throat. "I will be ready for it. From now on. I just underestimate how much time this is gonna take."

"Exactly." He says firmly. Turning his back to her. Staring out the window like she's not there anymore.

She fights back tears. "I know you think you're doing this for my own good, but you're not helping me. You're just not. Let me help you."

"No."

"What if i…" she puts her head in her hands, scratching at her scalp. "What if I work on defending myself again? I'd never hurt you, but if I could, block or something…"

He turns towards her, eyes wet with tears. "How could I ask you to do that?"

"You're not. But I think it'll help. So I can safely stay. And you do snap out of it Peeta, you've never really hurt me."

He goes to her now, pleadingly. "I never wanted to, I'm trying so hard not to."

She sees the dark circles under his eyes. "Did you sleep?" he sits next to her on the edge of the mattress.

"No." he says gravely. She gives him the slightest, warmest smile she can.

"We'll keep each other safe." She draws him onto his back, lying beside him. "Sleep." She commands.

He looks up at her sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh Peeta," she brushes her lips along his forehead. "I know, I know, it's not your fault."

"It's just, ever since I was little; I swore I wouldn't hurt anyone like that."

"You never knew you were going through the games. And you didn't," she adds quickly. "It was something dark and terrible that we have to stop okay. It's all that's left of the capitol. We brought it down, together, last time. So we just have to do this again."

He nods, closing his eyes.

"I love you." she adds. "Go to sleep."

His head sinks into the pillow, and she holds him. And until the sun fully rises and hangs at the center of the sky, they sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

She pulls off his shirt, and he's surprised.

She looks at him hungrily. "I don't want to feel sad today."

He props himself up on his elbow and grins down at her. "So taking my shirt off, that's your solution."

She rolls onto her back and gazes up at the ceiling. "Step one of a multi-step plan." She says coyly, avoiding his eyes.

He chuckles, bringing his lips to a sweet spot under her ear. She fidgets a little as his lips move over it, smiling. "Would that really make you happy?"

She bites her lip. "Maybe."

"I do like you when you're happy." He nods slightly, still hovering over her ear.

"I think it's best for all of us." She says firmly.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." And he kisses her full on the mouth, big and wet and intoxicating. He goes for the hem of her t-shirt, but she flinches suddenly.

"Wait," she points out, "let the cat out."

And sure enough, the damn animal is lounging on the windowsill.

Peeta groans and rolls off her, scooping up the cat and pushing it out of the room, dodging its claws. It hisses angrily and trots off.

He turns to her, after shutting the door, grinning to see her lounging in her bra and shorts, head propped up on her hand, leaning on her elbow.

"Hold still." She requests, and her eyes wander his chest and shoulders. She has a sly smile he's positive he'll grow to like.

"Are you…?" he hovers in his spot across the room, letting his hands fall to his sides.

She shrugs. "Maybe."

Her eyes move over him shamelessly; and there's a look in her eyes he desperately wants to see up close. He's not used to and scrutiny from her. She was shy. He likes this new surprise.

He's watching her watch him and their in this strange daze of observation. They're holding their breath together. They're scared to break this moment.

He clears his throat, his longing to touch her breaking his curiosity.

"Well take a picture, it'll last longer." He points out, shaking her out of her trance.

She grimaces at that, but still opens her arms to him, if only to touch what was just only being seen.

He falls into her arms, and she rubs his back and kisses his face. Suddenly she is all that's warm and safe and good in this world. He groans into the skin of her neck, sliding down to bury his face in her chest. She hums a little bit, stroking his hair.

"Can I try something?" she whispers.

He nods. She can try anything. She can take a baseball bat to his knees if that'll make her happy, for all he knows. Anything really, at this point.

He glances up at her face, and she's turning bright red, staring at the wall. She pushes at his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. she crawls down his body. He watches her carefully. She fumbles with his belt, eyes cast down. She can't quite look at him yet, not before…

He can barely breathe, and suddenly, with a slight dip of her neck, her mouth is _there_, warm and wet and moving slowly over him, unsure. He gulps and lets his head fall back against the mattress. He stares at the ceiling, dazed. Katniss Everdeen took him in her mouth.

Her hand holds what her mouth can't, and she's so gentle and soft that it doesn't take long, and he's grunting out a few warnings, so desperate not to scare her off. But he doesn't.

So when he cums, she looks at him finally, a little shyly, to ask if she did it right. He's gasping, chest heaving, arm thrown over his face. His other hand reaches for her and strokes her face.

"You didn't have to…"

"But you did it to me, and I liked it," she blushes. "Did you like it?"

He closes his eyes. "You have no idea. Thank you."

He's aware he's naked, but he's ignoring Katniss's prudishness after that little display. He draws her up over him, to straddle his stomach.

"Thank you." he says again, kissing her, trying to pull her closer and closer with each pull of his lips. His hands help rid her of her remaining clothing.

"We're gonna try it like this, okay?" he says softly, looking up at her poised over him, placing his hands on her hips. "I'll help you."

She blushes pink. "But you're gonna look at me."

He tilts his head, grinning wickedly. "That's the point. If you "hate it" just tell me, we'll stop." He teases, using her colorful choice of words. She closes her eyes, slowly grinding her core onto his hardening cock. She's wetter than he expected.

She bites her lip. "I think I like it this way."

He adjusts himself at her entrance, and she throws her head back at how he feels just brushing against her.

She lowers herself onto him, and gasps at him filling her at this angle. She doesn't hate this at all. She rolls her hips gently, experimenting. He groans underneath her, gripping her hips tightly. He thrusts up into her. Her legs shake as he moves in and out of her. He shifts underneath her, and moves her up and down. She gasps out and follows his guidance. She moans, and he pushes her a little bit forward and at that angle…

She cries out, pushing her hips down roughly and grinding back and forth, her clit brushing him just so, and cums, moaning loudly.

The waves of her climax finish him off as he moves her up and down again, prolonging her orgasm and his own.

She collapses on top of him, lying against him. He chuckles, kissing her sweaty brow.

"Best way to start the day." He says softly, brushing her hair out oh her face.

She smiles faintly, snuggling into him. "Did that make you feel better?"

He nods. "Did that make you happy?"

"Yes." She answers.

She's quiet though, toying with the ends of her hair.

"I think I want to visit Prim." She says softly.

He nods, not sure what she means.

"There's this place in the woods, this lake, it was special to me and my dad. And I guess Prim too. And I want to go there today."

He smoothes and hand along her back. "Whatever you want."

"I want you to come too." She looks at him nervously. "I want you there with us."

He grins at her slowly, lighting up his face. He didn't expect her to share this with him.

"Of course."

"Okay." She pulls herself off him, sitting next to him and smiling.

"Get dressed first." She teases, and goes back to their room to pull on some clean clothes.

He hurries after her, grabbing her hand and pulling her into and embrace. He lifts her off the floor and kisses her with all the gratitude and love he can give. Because after the night they had, she can still trust him, yet she's the one who insists she's unworthy of this love. He blinks as he watches her dress. He'll never deserve it. He'll never deserve what she gives him.

_A/n thanks for all the reviews, though I would prefer if I got more than just "Update!" on every chapter. Please tell me, in your opinion, what is wrong. Right with the story so far. Sorry I had my shameless smut chapter; I try to keep a balance of angst/smut. Makes it more fun. Sorry updates took so long; Sandy really fucked me over this week. Review please!_


	19. Chapter 19

She wants to run, and he follows.

As soon as they slip through the remains of the wire fence and stare into the edge of the forest, she freezes. He glances at her nervously, watching her lick her lips and not breathe, as her gray eyes flit around the trees.

She purses her lips, considering something.

A small smile reaches her eyes.

And she breaks into a sprint, leaving him in her wake to wonder what the hell just happened.

He runs after her, calling her name a bit nervously, but then she laughs, she throws her head back to look at him and smiles.

The world and the district and the forest and their lives are spinning wildly around them but they simply run. She runs crookedly because she feels like the ground is tilting under their feet. He chases her.

She slows her pace, but still jogs, to hold out her hand to him. He takes it, and they interlock their fingers and run through the woods, startling every wild thing in their path.

It's a strange day, with sun pouring through and around clouds. They hover dangerously low in the sky, but the sunshine is still golden with the foreboding storm somewhere ahead.

They reach the lake, out of breath, and he yanks her arm a little bit to spin her into a quick kiss, which she allows.

"When I grab at you during a fit, don't do that." He warns.

She rolls her eyes, "I know."

He kneels on the mossy ground. "Sit down."

She obeys, lookin at him dubiously. "Why?"

"Just…keep me from pinning you, okay?"

He grabs at her upper arms and tries to push her on her back. She rolls him over. They wrestle around the ground, pushing and shoving. She's not afraid of being rough with him, of pinning his hands down, of sitting on his chest and immobilizing him. He's only forceful enough to slightly gain the upper hand, and even then, he's cautious.

"Get my arms behind my back and pin my facedown, it's tougher for me to get out of that." He tells her how to move her arms and legs and body, and she pins him, holding him gently. Her knee digs into his back. He nods against the dirt. "Okay."

She eases off of him, and he stands and leads her to the lake.

Ankle deep in water, he wants to teach her to fight. He rolls up his pants legs and she splashes about, soaking her clothes.

"I'm going to grab at you, and you're going to throw me off."

She nods, adjusting to a wider stance and bracing herself.

He makes a few lazy, light swings at her, and she bats his arms away. His eyes find hers, and he nods, and his arm comes up near her stomach and she grabs it and swings him around her body so he stumbles away. He lunges towards her, and she ducks and pushes into him so he falls forward into the water. When he comes up sputtering for air, she rushes over to help him up. As he's shaking the water out of his hair like a dog, he takes her outstretched hand. He pulls her down into the water next to him. She splashes noisily, indignant but smiling.

She floats on her back into deeper water, then bobs up and down, tempting him to just try swimming over to her. He tries, and lashes about in the water until she pulls him to where he can stand, where she can't. She treads water and stares up at him shyly.

"Katniss, you can't ever let me hit you again."

"I didn't "let" you-"

"I know. But I can't get away with it next time," he clenches his jaw, angry at himself, "and I promise you, there will never be a next time. I can't take this out on you, but it's like a fog Katniss, I can't see you when I get like that. So you need to get far away from me if this happens again."

He slips his hands over her hips, and he brings his eyes close to hers.

She can't stand the thought of this; of this boy, who touches her so tenderly and loves her so purely who can't control a rage that makes him destroy 'them'. All because he was her weakness and the capitol needed some place to stick a knife in her heart.

"Peeta, if I ever feel like I am in genuine danger, I'll leave, get help for you, and do whatever it takes to make it better. How does that sound?"

"Like a good plan, given our circumstances." He presses his forehead against hers.

"I am at the mercy of the parts of my mind I can't control. But so help me god, Katniss, I will do everything in my power to make sure I don't do that again."

"You can't control your fits, Peeta; I know you would never treat me like that if you were fine all the time. I wouldn't put up with that from you. I know you're sick, honey." The word drips off her lips like honey itself, sweet and thick and soothing to her voice.

"You're sick too."

He pulls her closer, and she wraps her legs around him, and he bounces around the bottom of the lake, twirling her through the water. It swirls around them like cool hands. She leans back and lets it move through her hair. He finally smiles softly and gives her little wet kisses all over her face and lips.

"I want to go home." She says a while later, after the sun has slipped from its peak and starts to recede over treetops. They glow in the golden light, but they break the façade of wildness and rise from the water, dripping and shivering.

They walk through the forest, having run them out the way there. They still hold hands. A few times she squeezes his hand, like she's not sure he's alive, and he squeezes back, and it makes her heart leap that he can feel her and she can feel him.

They reach the house too soon, and she doesn't want to retreat yet.

"I don't want to go inside yet." She states, standing on the porch steps, looking up at him with an expression of finality.

He stares down at her, eyebrows raised, and crosses back to the front steps. "What do you suggest we do instead?"

She wants to air out the house of all its dead space and cold air. She wants to warm their skin in the sun. She wants to stay outside in a place where she can't see the bars of her cage.

"Let's just…get a break from the house. Let's talk."

She strides across the porch, happy with her plan, and settles cross legged on the grimy floor.

"You make a good trainer." She stretches languidly, muscles sore from running and wrestling.

He smiles down at her, taking a seat across from her. "I try to keep you safe." He admits.

She folds her hands on her lap and bites her lip. "I miss Prim."

She always does, and when she remembers that her sister is dead, when it strikes her that she's gone, she can't breathe anymore, and her heart flutters faster. She misses that little girl, who she did everything she could to protect. To no avail.

"I just wanted to save her, and now that I know it was for nothing, I just…" she chokes on her words. She shakes her head violently. "She would have been a great healer. She would have done so much more for people than I did or can or ever will."

His hand covers her knee, and her eyes snap open. His cheek moves over hers, and he's shaking his head furiously. "You gave fire to an entire revolution. Prometheus. " he whispers in her ear.

"What?" she pulls back to look at him. She doesn't know that word.

"It's an old legend. He brought fire to mankind, when it was only meant for the gods. He brought them out of the darkness. He was a savior"

"Do you believe that?"

"I want to. I wish I could. It's a nice story."

"Did I really do that?" she breathes out.

He smiles. "Yes."

She leans her head back on the porch railing, the sun glinting off her hair. It's drying messily, curled and tangled around her shoulders, but little strands of it look coppery and shiny in the sunlight.

"Do you think she could have healed us? Was she supposed to be here to fix us?"

"We couldn't rely on her to fix us. I think this is something we're just going have to work through while trying to live every day."

She considers the sight of him for a moment.

And it occurs to her.

He's scared. He's as scared as she is, about all of this.

"Maybe it'll help," she scratches her ankle, "maybe it'll help if we talk about things."

"I miss my brothers." He admits.

She swallows thickly. "What were they like?"

"Troublemakers. They always played pranks on me. Gave me so much crap about you."

"They did? After the games?"

"Nope. Since they found the drawing I did of you when I was eight under my mattress." He smiles when he says it, shaking his head.

Her head lulls to the side. "You didn't."

"I did. It looked just like you, crayon suites you."

She smiles, as thunder shakes the earth.

She glances up quickly. "It's raining." She breathes out.

Before he can further discuss the weather with her, she's stumbling down the porch steps and staring at the clouds. She squints at the sky, breaking out into a small smile.

"Come here." She calls, just as the sky drops a heaving sigh of relief and the fat raindrops fall to the ground. He goes to her, tangling himself in her outstretched arms and lifting her up in the air. Water drips down their hair and backs and smiles.

She throws her head back as he spins her around.

He slows down to lazy circles, running a hand up and down her spine. It makes her shiver through her wet clothes, but she wants to blame it on the rain.

"Just kiss me," she mumbles, muffled, in his ear.

He shifts her in his arms, taking a good look at her face.

And he gives her a real kiss, a reassuring, safe kiss, and holds her twice-soaked body tight until the thunder crash startles them back onto the porch, sloshing through puddles. They faintly hear Haymitch yelling something about "crazy kids trying to kill themselves" and "get the hell inside".

They laugh. They hold hands. They kiss. They go upstairs and tear off each others wet clothes and keep kissing and fall into bed and move together like they're still learning, but they're getting better.


	20. Chapter 20

He's still asleep, and she decides to go see Haymitch.

He's been clamoring loudly lately, banging around his house, and the sound carries over to them every once in a while. Her heart goes out to the crabby old man. So she pulls on a light cotton sundress, its faded floral print a faint reminder of Cinna. It makes her heart gasp every time she sees the little blue flowers sprayed across it.

Peeta's sleeping, soundly, a slight twitch of a smile on his lips. It gives her this quick, fluttering rush at the sight of him, asleep and happy. She feels safe enough to leave him.

She rolls bottles aside with her bare feet as she makes a path through the trash Haymitch's porch. They clank noisily as the crash into each other. Haymitch, who must have fallen asleep on his couch, groans at the indignity of being woken up before noon.

"Good morning, sunshine," she sings to him. He swears profusely.

She shakes her head, striding into his kitchen. "Is there any food in here? What have you been eating?"

He grumbles something she can't make out. She slams the cupboard shut with a little more force than necessary, smirking when he groans about his headaches.

She tosses him a cheese bun she found on one of the counters, and plops down on the couch after forcing his feet aside.

"When's the last time you talked to another human being?" she grumbles at him, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"You pissed me off so much last time we spoke I've been avoiding It." he snaps right back, biting into the roll.

She glares at him.

They continue like this for a few more minutes, jabbing and blocking with words like only they can. She's comforted by his bitterness. She doesn't have the pressure of being happy. She can be cynical and cranky and get all of it out of her system with Haymitch. It's strangely therapeutic, more than talking to doctors and popping pills. She just has the freedom of no pretenses, because in the sickest way, Haymitch is the one who understands her most. Peeta's eternal optimism is so pure and good and she loves it dearly, but it's not how she sees things. Which is why she needs him. But she needs a break from it too.

Haymitch reeks of alcohol and needs a shave and a bath. Katniss has considered hiring Effie to look after him. She's sure Effie would love to have someone to fuss over constantly. But it makes her smile to wonder who would kill whom first. Her bets were on Haymitch.

Peeta walks in, and suppresses a smirk at the pair on the couch. Both are slouching, with grumpy faces; one smeared with dirt, the other with cheese. They looked like twins, in their own way.

"Aren't you two a sight for sore eyes." He smiles at Katniss. She rolls her eyes at him, raising herself from the couch and brushing herself off.

"You should get out of the house, old man." She nags, and gathers up some damp, soiled papers on the coffee table. She throws them out, takes a bucket of feed out to the geese.

Peeta has taken her place on the couch. He appears to be speaking intently with Haymitch. Katniss pokes her head in the door. "Plotting another revolution?"

"Reporting for duty, Mockingjay." Peeta teases. She wrinkles her nose.

"We have self-defense stuff to practice." She reminds him. She grabs his hand and pulls him off the couch. He stumbles towards her and puts his hands on her hips, kissing her cheek before heading towards the door.

"You two are the strangest married couple I've ever seen," Haymitch says into a bottle.

They both flinch at this, and Peeta looks at her cautiously. Her face is pinched.

"Don't drink yourself to death, old man." She walks briskly out the door.

Peeta isn't sure how to follow that, but for once he walks quietly and follows her lead.

"So what do you think?" she turns suddenly, once they're a little ways down the road, out of earshot.

"About what?"

"Do you want to be married?" she doesn't sound excited by this.

He clears his throat. "If you don't want to be…"

"Let's forget about what I want for a second. What do you want?"

"I'm not saying now, but…yeah. I could see it. I'd like it. Not now though."

She nods. "I don't know how I feel about it. But not now. I want us to be better when we do."

He casts a sideways glance at her. "_When_?"

She shrugs her shoulders and faces her palms upwards. "Do you see me living with anyone else?"

"No."

"Do you see me sharing my bed with anyone else?"

"No."

"Have I given you any reason to think I'm going to pack up and run off with anyone else?"

"Not that I've seen."

"Then why do you doubt that I just want you?" she tangles her hands in his hair and kisses him. He wasn't really expecting it, and he stumbles a bit. He regains his footing and they kiss and he can't breathe. He doesn't believe what can happen, this realm of possibility that has opened up.

"So I guess that's something we're working towards." She smiles finally. "I may like it, someday."

He takes her hand and they walk to the forest.

"Well, now that we've cleared the whole marriage thing up, ready to have me try to attack you?" he stretches his arms over his head. He hasn't shaved this morning. It makes her smile.

She instead tackles him, and on the ground they kiss and wrestle around. Eventually they stop playing fair and it gets to the point they stop really playing, and Peeta slings her over his shoulder and starts striding back home. She laughs at this, clinging to him. Their door slams behind them triumphantly, announcing their arrival home.

She ponders a lifetime with Peeta. In all they've gone through, she's never felt like old age was an option. She lived with Peeta as though he was going to taken away the next day. Once she stopped being afraid, would she still love him?

It occurred to her that this wasn't a fear that would just leave. She'd been through too much. This wasn't going to be all gone someday. They'd need each other to soldier though their memories together.

He carries her to the couch and sets her on his lap. He senses her change in mood, and kisses her deeply, devouring her breath. She clings to him, and his vitality, and her limbs go weak. He maneuvers her out of her underwear and moves her skirt out of the way. She takes a choked breath as he thrusts into her, because she feels raw and alive and peeled of her own skin.

She wants to be as close to him as possible. She doesn't want to exist in her own body; she wants him to take her and steal her from her mind and leave her incoherently babbling with pleasure. She doesn't want the burden of her thoughts anymore.

He sucks on her neck, harder than usual, and she whimpers, gripping his shoulders as she rises and falls with her hips. His hands play with her breasts through the thin cotton of her dress. There's something in her chest that makes her want to scream and cry and roll on the ground for hours, she's afraid again. That nothing will change. That she will have to be fighting him in order to love him. That he will have to beg his way into her life, as he always had. Because she is cold and distant and afraid. She's afraid she can't help him, that's he's worse without her, that he's better without her, of him being without her at all.

"Don't leave me." She whimpers, in a small voice.

His eyes are closed and his head is leaned against the couch. He's lost in her.

"I'm right here," and his mind is focused on what's currently going on between them, not her muddled brain. He swears, and her muscles clench around him just right, and they both spiral into pleasure at the wrong time, but since they're both doing it, it feels less wrong.

"Don't leave me." She cries, and clings to him so tightly his hips still.

"What's wrong?" he runs a hand up her spine, then back down and back again. "Katniss, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I can't marry you, please don't leave me."

"Katniss, I was never going to leave. Don't be silly."

"What if I don't get better? What if I'm not good enough to help you?" her cheek is rested on his shoulder. Her voice is small and muffled. She's crying.

Out of the blue, her mood has dipped somewhere bad.

"You will, you are, it's going to be okay."

She struggles in his arms. "Look at what I'm doing wrong, look at what I've done."

He still holds her tight.

"It's all my fault." She screams, and slides off his lap onto the floor because she doesn't deserve to be touched.

"No, no, it's not your fault; there was nothing you could have done."

"They killed Cinna because I loved him. Rue died because I couldn't protect her. Prim…oh god Prim…"

She hides her face in her hands, sobbing loudly.

"Shh, no, there was nothing you could have done." He drops to his knees beside her, rubbing her shoulder.

"I could have died."

"Don't talk like that."

"I should have."

"No."

"I should have let you win and died. I shouldn't have been so selfish. They'd all be alive if it weren't for me. I don't want to live."

"Katniss, that's not true. Stop it. They would want you to respect the life you still have."

"Don't tell me what they want. Prim wanted me to keep her safe."

"You did."

"She's dead. I failed."

"No."

"Katniss, you're not thinking straight. You need to calm down."

"Wanna sleep. I wanna sleep." She lies down on the floor.

He buries his face in his hands. He reaches for her tentatively and rubs her back gently.

"I'm going to carry you upstairs, you can sleep, okay?"

She lies like she's already dead. He picks up her limp body.

"I love you." he whispers in her ear tiredly.

When he places her on the bed and tucks her in, the fire in his head kicks up. He's angry. He's so angry.

She looks at him finally, seeing his irregular breathing and his tensed body.

"Peeta…" she says faintly.

He grabs her wrist and pulls her into the bathroom, taking deep even breaths.

"Lock the door," he chokes out, and slams it shut.

She follows his orders. She hears him slamming things around, yelling, crying. He pounds on the door in the midst of his fit, trying to strangle her. But he controlled it long enough to get her in that room and safely locked in. she cries even harder over this.

He stops moving eventually. She hears his heavy breathing.

"I'm not going to hurt you." he says tiredly, and she can hear it in his voice how drained he is.

She presses her forehead to the door and tries to control her shuddering sobs.

"I love you so much Peeta, and look what I did to you." she says, through the door, she hears him lean against her words.

"I love you Katniss, and I forgive you. Just look what I tried to do to you."

She chokes out a laugh. "We're quite a couple."

The star-crossed lovers of District 12.

_A/n. Hey ya'll. I wrote a story about Finnick and Annie. I'd never really used that couple before. If you like this story, you'll like it. They're a lot of dark, sexy fun too. They're growing on me. They're kinda overlooked. You should check it out, for like my self esteem and stuff. That'd be awesome. Please review!_


	21. Chapter 21

They are symmetrical on either side of the door. They lean against the frame, listening to the other side. They listen to each other breathing.

"I'm sorry." He says.

This is a difficult time, everything unsettled. This isn't your fault."

"I was so frustrated. I just want you to be happy."

"That's a lot to ask from me, right now. But you make me happy, sometimes. But to see that, you're going to have to deal with me like you did just now."

"Well, it's only fair, since you do the same for me."

They both sigh, at a standstill.

She still wants to sleep, but she wants him in the bed with her. She wants him warm and soft on her skin, stroking her, holding her, crooning to her.

She combs her hair with her fingers, grimacing.

"I don't feel well." She says finally.

"I know, sweetheart. I'm not feeling to hot either."

She shifts around to face the door, as if she could see through it. "What's wrong?"

He grunts. "My leg hurts."

She gets up at this, and unlocks and opens the door. The room is in disarray, blankets ripped from the bed, a side table thrown across the room, clutter scattered over the floor. He smiles at her sheepishly, dark circles under his eyes. His hair is sticking out in all directions. She gazes upon his freckles, distracted by them.

She wants to smile, but can't. She kneels by his side.

"Your leg?"

He rubs his upper thigh, where his real leg ends and the capitol one begins. "It's kind of been bothering me lately."

"hmm." Her two hands wrap around his leg, slowly squeezing and kneading the muscle.

He groans and leans his head back against the door. "That feels nice." He admits gruffly.

She glances up at him and blushes. "I'm not trying to…pleasure you…or whatever. I'm trying to make you feel good."

"Sounds like the same things to me." He gives her a slightly wicked grin.

She grows flustered, removing her hands.

He covers her hands with his and returns them to the seam of man and machine. "I'm sorry. But it made my leg feel better. And when you touch me, well…what do expect me to do? I'm only human."

She lets her hair fall over her face. Emboldened by the cover, she smiles softly.

"I like touching you. You respond to it." her thumbs shift up and down, pressing into his skin.

He pushes her hair out of her face. "You look sad."

"I am. Kind of. This is a very complicated time. All these emotions are still resurfacing and we're trying to make this…thing work somehow while dealing with all this shit."

He considers this tiredly. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't anybody's fault. Well, nobody's fault that's still alive."

"Good point. I guess we're the remains of so many generations of destruction."

"The children of the beast." She murmurs, stilling her movements.

He sighs, missing her touch. She closes her eyes.

"I think I can't let go of Prim because everyone treated this like it was my revolution. The games didn't kill her. The uprising I caused did."

"How about we just blame Gale and hate him?"

She's meant to laugh at this, but she just shifts her weight, leaning on her hip, legs tucked underneath her. "You know that didn't help either."

"I would help me sleep at night, knowing my competition was…"

"Enough with the competition stuff. I've had enough competing in my life to make me sick of it forever. Gale will never be you. There was a time where maybe I could have loved him like I love you, but we can't go back to that time. Too much has changed. But I won't hate him."

"I'll accept that."

"And I don't want to touch him. Just you. I like you."

"Katniss, if I didn't know any better, I'd start thinking you didn't hate sex."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

He cradles her face in his hands, smiling proudly. "Never." He declares.

She buries her face under the crook of his neck. "Peeta?"

"Yes?"

"Is it bad that I still want to go to sleep?"

"I'd like to sleep too. I'm worn out."

"Can we?"

He lifts her, silently, and places her on the mattress, gathering the blankets from across the room. She pulls off her dress and lies in her underwear, and he pulls off his shirt and jeans, stumbling his way out of his socks. She smiles slightly.

"You didn't need me to help you return to yourself." She points out as he slides in next to her. They curl towards each other, his leg somewhere between her soft thighs, her fingers around one of his wrists, his hand tucked under her back.

He looks at her pointedly for a minute, before sighing and closing his eyes.

"It just took a little time. But I didn't have to help you. We got through it. I mean, you made sure that I got myself out of harm's way before anything even happened."

"It kills me that I hit you." he murmurs.

She brushes her fingertips over his lips. "Snow wanted you to hit me. He wanted me to sacrifice everything to get you back and then to damage me further by having you hate me. And he almost got what he wanted. But you're too strong." She kisses his cheek. "Peeta, what you went through…what your mother did…that's different. We're not like that."

"I love you." he whispers, and his brow is so furrowed and tired. "I'm so sorry; I wish that we could…"

"Shh, let's just sleep," her lips brush over his. "You're so tired, honey. Let's just go to sleep."

"You'd be such a good wife. You want to take care of everyone and protect them."

"You'd make a better husband."

"I doubt it."

"Peeta?"

"Yes?"

"I think I definitely want to marry you someday."

_A/n Surprise! Happiness? What is this "happiness" of which you speak? I clearly suck at writing that emotion. Anyway, review, and you'll get to see what happens next much, much sooner. In-depth reviews make me write like a speed demon. _


	22. Chapter 22

He has a fit while they're making dinner. She isn't expecting it; there isn't the usual dramatic buildup. There was one moment where he was there, kneading dough, and the next he is breathing roughly, shutting his eyes tight. Her hands brush his shoulders worriedly, and she stands behind him. He goes rigid under her touch. She clears her throat nervously.

"Peeta…?"

At the sound of her voice, He snaps. He swings at her, yet she's ready, without knowing she is. She catches his wrist, yanks him past her body. She pulls him down as he stumbles. She rolls him on his stomach and settles her weight carefully on his back.

He struggles and swears and yells at her. With her free hand she strokes his hair and says whatever she can think to say at a time like this. But he stops struggling eventually. And she has the upper hand.

So she sings sweet little songs from their childhood. The words float from her lips and fill their little kitchen, and the kettle on the stove is whistling furiously and the oven is beeping, but the water can turn to nothing and the food could burn to ash for all they care. She watches him take shaky breaths. She coos to him like a baby, like Prim after her nightmares.

"Look what we did, honey, look what we did." she takes a shaky breath. "We were ready this time."

He twists his head awkwardly to look up into her eyes. She smiles weakly.

"Can you breathe, am I hurting you?"

He shakes his head. She heaves a relived sigh. She leans down and kisses his cheek. "Should I get off of you?'

He closes his eyes again. "I'm okay."

She eases off him, crouching next to him, smoothing a hand over his back.

"Peeta, we did it." she gives him a small smile.

He shakes his head. "This shouldn't feel like an accomplishment."

"For us it is."

He sits up, smoothing a hand down the side of her face. "We got flour everywhere." He points out tiredly, the corners of his eyes turning up with a smile.

He's right. Everything is coated with a layer of white dust. He must have swept a lot of it off the table during his fit. Little streaks of it cover her arms and hands. A thin line of it is brushed over her lips. He brushes it off with his thumb.

She grabs his hand as she stands up, turning off the stove and oven.

"Hungry for burned chicken?"

"Not particularly." His hands settle on her hips as he stands behind her. He rests his head on her shoulder. "I'm not hungry."

He watches her face carefully, the flutter of her eyelashes, the sharpness of her cheekbones, her pursed lips. She smiles softly.

"You want to work on the book?" she says quietly.

"Yes." He blurts out. She pulls him to the desk they barely use in the living room, and she hands him paper. She sits cross-legged on the floor and smiles up at him, the sun hitting her face the right way that makes her look like salvation and sweetness. He knows her better. But he likes to pretend.

"I'll tell my memory first."

She clears her throat, looking pensive. She searches for something good to tell, something she hasn't thought of in years; that has yet to be tainted by memory.

"When Prim was a baby, my father and I would sing to her. It was always our job." Her chest still puffs out a little bit with pride over this detail.

So one time she woke up crying in the middle of the night, and I snuck out of bed to go and comfort her. So a few minutes later, my father goes to check on her, and he sees me holding her, singing softly so I wouldn't wake anyone up. So he smiles and starts singing with me and even though it was cold outside and we were so tired and a little hungry, me and my father and Prim. We were so happy and warm and safe. We were outside of the district. We were outside of any kind of world. It was amazing."

She takes a deep breath. "I never felt safe like that again in my life." She leans forwards and grabs his hand, stilling it from it's movements over the page, "Until you held me in my sleep, after nightmares. I felt that safe."

He brings her hand up to his lips for a gentle kiss, moving his thumb along her knuckles.

She likes his eyes, the way they are pouring into her. They're heavy and dark and she likes the attention he's giving her.

She bites her lip. "I wonder what he'd think of me now."

Peeta brushes hair out of her face. "He'd be so proud of you, and all you had to go through. He helped you be strong enough to support your family. But you learned to be strong enough to survive the games, and a revolution, all on your own."

She blushes. "I had you. And Haymitch. And he taught me to protect myself and Prim. That's what I was doing."

She looks at the floor after this, and they acknowledge her failure with sorrow, but not guilt; for once. It was a tragedy, but like in most tragedies, they had little hand in the fate they were dealt.

They sit in silence, and his pencil still moves, until she grows too curious at what he's writing and peeks.

The page held a drawing, not words. In it was Katniss, unmistakably, holding a sweet faced baby that had to be Prim. And smiling proudly down at her was her father. Peeta hadn't seen her father for years, well, neither had she, but he knew him less. But you couldn't tell that from his drawing. The lines of her father's jaw, his eyes, his smirking smile, was there. It was her father. And all those features were also hers. She traced her fingers over the sketch, and realized how much of her father she saw in herself. She couldn't breathe. Peeta gave her the perfect gift. A moment with her father, and she was breathing as him and feeling as him and crying tears of pride and sorrow that were for him, as he would cry for her. Prim was still a baby and safe. She had her family.

"Thank you," she whispers, "thank you, Peeta."

_A/N Ugh I can not believe I published this with so many typos. I think I fixed all of them. That first paragraph was a mess, sorry guys! Please review!_


	23. Chapter 23

She leans against his good leg and sighs, considering the drawing. "Your turn," she murmurs, tangling a hand in her hair and stretching lazily.

He smiles faintly, leaning back in his chair.

"You remember you told me how you would take Prim to look at the cakes in the bakery window?"

She smiles sadly at this. "Yeah."

She wants to hear about his family, but settles for this, because he seems happy to tell it. It occurs to her maybe he loved Prim too. She traces circles on the floor and looks up at him in his chair, wanting to suddenly kiss him. But she wants to hear this. She wants to be with him and her sister again.

"I saw you a couple times. Nearly dropped a tray of bread the first time I saw you standing there, and you didn't look as hungry or sad. It was like this huge rush; suddenly Katniss Everdeen was at my house. Prim was holding your hand, and her eyes were the size of saucers. She was just staring at them. I wanted to sneak you some, I really did."

She shakes her head, leaning it on his knee. "You didn't have to," she says quietly.

"But I remember watching you. You were bored. You kind of paced around behind Prim. You were looking a million places at once. Clearly, you had so much more on your mind. I liked that about you. You always had something important to do."

She blushes, burying her face against his pant leg.

"But Prim, she just looks up at me, and you and I couldn't have been more than fifteen, and she has these big, wide eyes. And she just nods towards you, while you're not paying attention, and mouths "Marry her" to me."

She gapes at him. "That little…" and she starts to laugh.

"She'd turn bright pink whenever she saw me after that, except when you were there. If you were with her, she'd just raise her eyebrows and nod at you. It was probably the funniest thing I have ever seen."

Katniss is staring off into space, smiling fondly. "She was trying to get me married off to someone with a good job. She didn't want me to be like my mother."

"She loved you, Katniss. She wanted to improve your life just as much as you wanted to improve hers."

"That's a beautiful story Peeta." She whispers softly. "No wonder I keep you around."

He draws her up into his lap, and kisses her gently. "I wish we could have kept her safe."

"It was my duty to…" she rubs one of his shirt buttons between her fingers

"It was a responsibility forced upon you. And I wanted to help. I knew how important she was to you. She was so innocent."

"Prim and Rue. A lot of innocence has died." She muses, tucking her head under his chin.

"It doesn't die, it sort of fades. In all of us. And there's room for more of it now, with the capitol gone."

She nods. "I still see you as innocent."

"Same to you. Still so sweet and naive."

She makes a face at this, fidgeting in his lap.

"I don't think I like that." She mumbles.

"You are totally hopeful Katniss. You believe we're going to be alright someday."

"I don't believe we're going to be perfect, Peeta, but I think we're going to be alright." She argues.

He smiles down at her. "And after all we've been through, that takes a hell of a lot of hope. It's what I love about you. As for your innocence…" he grins wickedly, "You still blush almost every time I look at you. It's adorable."

"Never use that word to describe me again." She says darkly, sitting up and staring dangerously into his eyes.

'You are. I love it. It drives me crazy." his hands settle on her hips and squeeze. Her heart leaps.

"I take it back about you being innocent. You're a dirty old man."

"If you'll have me, I'll be whatever you say I am." His eyes are dark and purposeful.

She shivers. "I want you, as you are."

He presses his forehead to hers, his breath brushing over her lips.

"That's what I've been trying to." He whispers, and she loves his whispering voice, gentle and breezy and thick.

He kisses her, and she wondered if it was possible to want another human being so badly it was almost entirely pure and, well, innocent.


	24. Chapter 24

They've gone through every hell on earth together. He's always nervous talking about. It stirs up unpleasant feelings inside him. Familiar, but awful and smothering. As for Katniss, she flinches away from these subjects. She doesn't plead with him to please, baby, please tell me what they did to you, as he suspected a more "vanilla" girl would. She wasn't the begging type. She merely asked, and only that was at the point where she so desperately needed to receive.

So she surprised him; leaning her head on his shoulder, arms around each other on the couch, when she tilted up her head and let her gravely voice waver. "Do you think we could have ever been together without the games? Or the second time around? Or the war?"

The hearth is letting a glow fall over the living room, and her face is rosy and full in this light.

He considers her words, rubbing a hand up and down her back. "I don't know. You were pretty unpredictable."

She bites her lip at this. "I heard you and Gale say I would choose only who I couldn't survive without."

He nods, leaning his head back at the memory, trying to calm his breathing.

"I know. I'm sorry you heard that."

"That's why I chose you," she looks at him intensely, making him lower his eyes back down to hers, "but that's not the only reason why. It wasn't that impersonal. I loved you. I compromised for you, like I couldn't do for Gale. And when I realized that…I knew I made the right choice."

He nods, waiting for her to continue, a little flicker of guilt in his eyes.

"I wasn't weighing who'd be able to feed me and help me take care of myself. And Gale, he'd mourn me, as I I'd mourn him, still, even to this day." Tears fill her eyes.

"But if anything happened to you, and every time something did…oh god." She closes her eyes, blinking the tears down her face. "I would survive, but barely. You were the obvious choice. I was just confused, and in pain, and I didn't want to love you as deeply as I did, and with Gale, I didn't have to, and wasn't expected to. We didn't need each other, but we were still close. It was my one luxury."

He grips her a little tighter. "You don't need to explain yourself. I'm sorry if I made you feel like this. I'm so sorry, I never thought of you as...you know."

She pushes her hair out of her face with her hands, smoothing them over her forehead tiredly. "Sorry, that's been bothering me."

He smiles, small and weak. "I don't care about why, I'm just glad you're with me."

She kisses his lips, sweet and quick. She tangles her fingers in his hair. She straddles him, and smiles when he runs his hands up and down her sides.

"Can I tell you something?" he murmurs against her lips.

She pulls back and nods.

"My parents were planning to arrange a match of some kind, to another shopkeepers daughter, for when we got older." Her eyes widen at this.

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter. She was really pretty."

He smiles, distantly, and a little too fondly for her taste. He plays with the ends of her hair as he continues.

"We were childhood friends, and she liked me well enough. This was all going on right before the reaping. And I… I was almost okay with marrying her."

Katniss stares at him, wide eyed. She's not sure what to do with this information.

"I had this strange, out of my mind love for you, even then, but I didn't know how to win you over. I didn't know how to reach you."

She leans back, staring at her hand, currently placed on his chest.

"So without the games, would I have ever gotten your attention? Probably not. I would have married her and raised a content little family in the bakery and lived peacefully."

She shuts her eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"And I never would have felt anything as intensely as I've felt for you, and would have been less of myself because of it. And who knows, maybe I'd be as unsatisfied as my father? I would have to sit back and watch while the girl I always loved got swept into the arms of a handsome, dark haired miner."

She bites her lip, thinking of her father and Gale. She smoothes her hand down, over his heart. It's pounding.

"There was never going to be anyone else," he says, staring into her eyes as she dares to look up into them, "not like you. Never like you."

She ducks her heard shyly, sniffling at the thought of his pretty little bride and their perfect babies and their sweet little life. She can't give him any of that. And it's what he deserves.

"So what happened to us brought us together. I'd never know to ask for it, hell, I'd never ask for what we went through. But what we got out of it was each other."

He rubs her shoulders, pulling her down closer.

"We can't question what we're meant for. We're here, we're together, and we love each other. That's what we have. Maybe it's all we have, but it's ours, and we fought for it."

"The spoils of war." She says bitterly, and glances around the room, indicating with her eyes. They turned out quite well in the end of each battle. The war was hard-won.

She falls back to the other side of the couch, leaning her neck on the arm. She pulls him over her, wrapping her legs tight around him. He fidgets with his clothing and hers just enough to free that what she's reaching for. She kisses him, furiously and thankfully, as he plays with her body until the tension in her chest is too much to bear.

She bucks desperately against his fingers as they toy with her clit. He stares down at her, examining her reactions as she gnaws her lip to keep from begging him for more.

She digs her heels into his back and pulls him close, grinding into his growing desire and then finally gasping with relief as he slides inside her, filling her. She just wants to be close to him, and this isn't even close enough.

He rocks his hips into her, kissing her neck.

And he whispers in her ear why he's so happy she's with him. She grasps at his hair and whimpers in response. His teasing fingers go back to her clit and help her along, too quickly, it's far too quickly. She clenches her muscles around him tightly. She doesn't want this to end. Not yet. The pressure is growing like a balloon that must eventually pop. She wishes for more time, and patience to make this last. But they're desperate for each other, so they both spiral into sweet oblivion and drift back to earth. They gasp into each other's mouths and rub their sweaty bodies together with the mix of their joint climax coating their thighs.

She blushes, tucking her head in the crook of his neck.

"I would never be able to make love to that shopkeeper's daughter like I can with you, that's for sure." He says tiredly, pride rising up in his tone.

She smiles.

"I'm sure Gale's got nothing on you either."

He makes a face at this.

"Well, you mentioned you former flame first. Don't get offended." She kisses his cheek.

They stare at each other. She wipes the sweaty hair off his face with a soothing hand. He kisses the worry lines away from her brow. He pulls her closer when she shivers in the chilly night air. She helps him settle his head on her bosom and sings sweet lullabies to him.

They sigh together, and breathe together, and fall asleep with matching heartbeats.


	25. Chapter 25

They wake with a start at the knock at the door. It echoes through the house violently.

It's moments like this when they both forget that there's no President Snow or capitol or cameras. They jump out of their skin. Peeta clings to Katniss, hovering over her body possessively.

She stares up at him; her face is very pale, over the violent banging sounds against their front door.

Until they hear a gruff voice holler, "get some clothes on and answer the door, you stupid kids."

Peeta's shoulders relax and his body sinks down to brush against hers. She bites back a smile at the feel of it, but helps him with his shirt and belt before pulling a shirt back on. He stumbles tiredly to the door, pulling it open with his bare foot tapping against the floor.

Haymitch stands there, already in the stance of the bearer of bad news. He looks tensed to run off the porch when Katniss arrives behind Peeta's shoulder, cocking an eyebrow suspiciously.

"You're never up this early."

"I received a call. From your other boyfriend."

She flinches and her nostrils flare. Peeta bites down the rising feeling of pride that brings.

"He says he wants to check in again. As a follow-up."

They both looked thoroughly stunned.

Katniss snaps out of it first.

"That's not up to him, if he comes back here…"

"He's not coming."

Haymitch holds up a hand and her snarling ceases. She stares at him sullenly.

"He's sending your mother."

And at the mention of her mother, she falls into her role of a child. She stands there, wide eyed and small.

"I told him it was a shitty idea, but she's on a train already. She'll be here in a tonight."

She makes a noise in the back of her throat somewhere between a hiccup and a whimper.

Peeta's hand slides to her lower back and pulls her to his side. She stares at the porch floor.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"I just got off the phone. He said he hasn't been able to reach yours."

Katniss remembers the loose plaster around the hole in the walls, with sawed up wires.

"Thanks for coming right over Haymitch, why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night?"

Their mentor's eyes say he really, really did not want to witness any of this, but Peeta's eyes burn more furiously than he has seen in years, so the gruff man nodded slowly.

"See you kids then." He stumbles down the steps, then turns over his shoulder.

"You've handled much worse than this kid." He nods up at Katniss. "You won't mess up these next few days."

He retreats to his house, having tainted all the air at theirs.

Peeta wraps a cautious arm around her shoulder, and she bursts into tears.

"I don't want her here. I don't want her near me."

"She's your mom, Katniss"

"That means nothing. She doesn't care about me."

"She cares enough to come all this way. That says something."

She takes a deep, calming breath through her nose but it doesn't work.

"Gale is a dead man." She says, and means it.

He sighs, rubbing her back a little. "We're going to be okay. Let's just get this over with."

They prepare the house. They get something to pass for dinner ready. Tension fills the air. Peeta's eyes are dark, and the environment around them is toxic from dread.

The hours drag, but suddenly its afternoon and the evening is just around the corner.

Katniss doesn't speak, but every once in a while he hears her sniffle. It makes his heart sink. He feels helpless.

When he drops the bowl of dough, the last thing on her mind is his fits.

Her head snaps up and he's twitching violently, gasping. His eyes flicker over hers. She reaches for him cautiously. He seizes away from her and runs to one of the back rooms and locks the door behind him. She goes to the door and pounds on it, screaming his name.

Tears fall freely now.

She hears crashes and things breaking. She knows there's nothing in there of value, old furnishings of the house they don't use and other junk from their past. But she hears things being thrown and yelling and large, terrifying thudding sounds.

It occurs to her that he's hurting himself.

She pounds furiously on the door.

"Peeta, stop." She shrieks. "Let me in. it's going to be okay."

She slams her entire body into the door, repeatedly, until she knows bruises will bloom up and down her side. But she breaks the door open, and that's what matters.

She races to his side, and he's still swinging at her, with broken glass all over the floor and furniture tipped over. His arm is bloody.

She holds him down and sings; her voice breaking and flat. She doesn't know what else to do. He curses her and shakes and cries.

She strokes her hand over his face.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." she murmurs in enough times to make the words sound like gibberish to her.

His body slows it movements, but he's still having a fit, worse than she's seen in a while.

She almost doesn't hear the faint, timid knock at the door. She runs to it.

She doesn't expect to see Prim's eyes when she opens the door. Older and more tired, but blue and sparkling.

She tries to hold back tears.

"I need your help." She admits, forgetting this damn charade and grabbing her hand.

She leads her to Peeta, who is screaming and writhing on the floor.

Her mother stares down at Peeta, stunned.

Katniss wrenches his arms put of the way, holding him down. She tries to be gentle with his bleeding arm. She settles her weight on his chest, trying to calm him down.

And she looks up hopelessly at her mother, begging for her to help when her life fell to crisis, like she's never done before.

Her mother put down her bag and settles by her side.


	26. Chapter 26

She strokes Peeta's face until the shaking subsides. He stares up at her with glassy eyes. She smiles weakly. Her mother is bent over his other arm, gently winding bandages around it.

Her mother has yet to say anything at all, even ask questions. Katniss takes a shaky breath and pushes her hair out of her eyes.

She grabs Peeta's sweaty hand and squeezes.

"Are you okay?" she murmurs softly.

"Yeah," he looks down at her knee. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Let's get you cleaned up."

She starts to help him up. He wobbles a bit against her support. He looks entirely spent, and it nearly makes her aching heart burst.

"I'll get dinner finished." Her mother says softly.

Katniss turns over her shoulder, surprised. "That'd be great, thanks. I'm just gonna make sure he's okay."

She helps Peeta up the stairs, but her shoulders feel lighter. This is going to be okay.

She pulls him into the bathroom, mopping off his forehead with a damp washcloth. This last fit must have been really bad; he's still pale and sweaty and can't quite speak yet.

She runs her hands up and down his arms. "Are you really okay?"

He sighs tiredly. "I could use a bath."

She smiles, turning to fumble with the faucet. "That can be arranged."

He moves behind her and kisses under her ear. His arms slip around her waist. His eyes are shut tight. "I thought I was really gonna hurt you," he says quietly, "I was so scared."

She gulps, settling her hands over his.

"You know how you locked yourself in the back room? Don't do that again."

"But…"

"You could have really hurt yourself. I would have been able to help you through it. You have to trust me. This is only going to work if you stop treating me like this fragile little doll."

He sighs, his breath the gentlest brush against her neck. He squeezes her body tighter. "I'm never going to stop trying to protect you, especially from myself."

He lets go, leaving her head reeling, and sheds his clothes. She smirks at his lost modesty; not proud, but trusting of how he looks to her.

She sits down next to the tub as he climbs in, leaning towards her. She tangles her hands in his hair lazily. He tempts a smile back to her lips with a sweet kiss. He grabs her waist again, but his hands are different, they cause giggles and breathy sighs. No more shock, no more trembling. No such pain will be drawn from his gentle hands.

So she barely protests when he scoops her up pulls her into the tub with him, clothes and all. She gives him a glowering look and smiles when he splashes her.

She smoothes her hands over his chest. His skin is so warm. She leans her head forward against his chest and sighs. His hands trace up and down her spine.

"I wish it were easy for us."

"I know, sweetheart. If I could give you anything, I'd make myself better."

"That's not what I mean." She murmurs.

She wants him safe. She doesn't want him to fix himself for her sake; she wants him healthy and happy and not a danger to himself.

She leans up and kisses him. Which leads to several more heated kisses as he draw her wet shirt up her back and then over her head.

She pulls back slightly. He looks so tired and worn down. She just wants to make him feel better.

She slides her hands up and down his legs, already seated between them. She pushes herself back even more and leans down. The way his legs immediately shake around her when she takes him in her mouth gives her a small swell of pride, and something else quite different.

His hand grabs her hair gently. He grunts, his head throw back.

She works her wet lips up and down gently, trying to figure out where to suck harder and when to be gentle. She experiments with tongue. And he looks at her like he doesn't need anything else for the rest of his life and with a shameless groan he comes.

He pulls her back up to him and kisses her deeply, longingly.

She slides easily out of her shorts and underwear. Her bra vanishes somewhere; she wasn't paying enough attention to know where.

He pulls her over his lap and they kiss, hands roaming each other.

He smoothes a hand over her face, and she grabs his wrist, looking at his hurt arm. She presses the lightest kiss to the bandage, and it sends sparks through him.

He pulls her ear closer to his mouth.

"I love you." he says softly, fingers poking into her swollen sex. She whimpers softly.

"I hate these fits, because for a brief second…I…hate you." he continues, halting his hand against her.

She groans and grinds down on his hand.

"And I want to be healthy enough to never feel that way."

He slides a finger inside her, searching for a specific spot inside her that makes her cry out when discovered.

"But for now, I just want you to know, even when I hate you, I still love you so much."

She nods furiously, gripping his shoulders. She bucks against his hand, grinding for further friction. He slides himself inside her and thrusts up, causing her legs to shake at the fulfillment.

He grips her tightly to him, and they love each other quietly and slowly.

She whimpers into her ear and he lets out soft sighs and grunts when she lowers herself onto him, squeezing her muscles around him.

"I love you." she says softly, kissing his lips shyly.

He rubs his thumb over her flushed cheek. She's blushing.

"It doesn't have to embarrass you, saying that." he teases.

She turns away, and he claims her attention with a rough thrust upward.

She loves the smooth skin of his chest and the scratch of the stubble under his jaw and his eyes when he's teasing her. She loves feeling all of his skin against her cheek. She loves his hands and his laugh and his perfect hair.

Katniss rolls her hips as opposed to the bouncing she was doing, and it makes all the difference. She feels the perfect friction against her bud and whimpers, coming.

He takes control of her movements, pulling her back and forth, prolonging her bliss, before falling into his own.

She collapses into his chest and they sigh together. She smiles when he starts to stroke her hair.

"I'm tired." He says finally.

"Get some sleep, honey." She pulls a towel around herself and helps him out after her.

He pulls on a pair of shorts and climbs into bed.

"Should I talk to your mom first?" he asks sheepishly.

"No, honey, rest. This has been a stressful day. Besides, I should talk to her alone."

She dresses, in a nice dress Cinna would have approved of. Well, he picked it out for her, but the silhouette made her stand taller and straighter.

He watches her dress, enjoying the way she pieces herself together and makes herself pretty in a different way than usual.

She braids her hair, and he sighs softly at the sight of the elaborate twist. She shoots him a scolding look.

And she hesitates at the stairs.

She's not sure if she's ready to face what's in the kitchen.

_A/N what do you mean, they don't need to have sex every other chapter? Blasphemy! The sex fairy strikes again! _

_Coming soon, mother/daughter character development! Yay! Maybe some more old characters will stop by for a visit. Who would you like to see stop by? Leave some suggestions in your next review (HINT HINT)_

_*shameless ploy*_

_Please review. Those of you who want me to update, why not post slightly…longer…reviews…every once in a while….maybe….okay…_


	27. Chapter 27

Her mother's hands are different.

They're not smooth like before, they don't glide around and move like a music conductors, bringing forth life. They shake unsteadily. All Katniss can do is look at her hands.

Her mother struggles with holding the knife steady to chop up a carrot.

Katniss bites her lip and leans against the kitchen counter, staring her mother down.

She glances up warily. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine. He's just resting."

The healer bites her lip. "Does this happen often?'

"No. we've been stressed. We didn't know you were coming so soon." Katniss bites out the words, which might as well mean_ we didn't think you were coming at all._

Her mother simply nods and goes back to chunkily chopping vegetables. She brushes the loose strands of her colorless hair out of her face.

"There are some medications, you know, for trauma."

"I think I've learned enough on how not to handle trauma." She spits back.

Her mother looks up tiredly. "You're going to have to forgive me someday."

Katniss crosses her arms and stands back upright. "You just sat there as me and Prim starved."

Her mother's, no, Prim's eyes glint at her hopelessly. "Is it any consolation at all that I did it because I loved your father very much?"

"So did I. and I was a child. I had to grow up so you could go on grieving. I raised two children. Remember I kept you fed too."

Katniss feels sick, ready to cry, because she somehow believes if her mother raised her right, Prim would still be alive.

But her mother surprises her. "We all know how strong you are. You are much stronger than me. You prove that time and time again. What else do you want from me?"

_My sister. My old life back. My father. My best friend. Peeta's leg. Haymitch's stability. My sanity. Peeta's sanity. Joanna's hope. Annie's mind. Finnick. Cinna. Mags. Rue. Thresh. _

No one had the power to give these things back to her. But why not ask her mother?

"I knew that you were weak. I've always known that. I don't know what I want from you. Maybe I don't want you here." She poises an eyebrow in a challenge.

Her mother shakes her head. "Gale insisted. He wanted to make sure his visit hadn't upset you two that much. He still cares."

"I don't want to hear that garbage." Katniss seizes squirrel meat from the counter and drops it into a pot to start the stew. She grabs handfuls of her mother's attempt at help and hurls the mangled vegetables noisily into the pot.

She slams more ingredients around; her mother draws herself into a corner. She doesn't take up much space, like a child who did something gravely bad. She stares at the floor with her hands folded carefully.

Katniss takes a deep breathe and smoothes her hair out of her face. She tosses the final ingredients and slams down the pot lid.

They sit at the kitchen table, not looking at each other, for a very long time. They don't bother speaking.

Peeta breezes down the stairs, composed and dressed in a nice button-down shirt. He ruffles his hair nervously.

"Hello Mrs. Everdeen," he says sheepishly, shaking her hand. She smiles thinly at him.

"Hello. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks for asking. How've you been?"

Genuinely surprised by the question, Mrs. Everdeen offers a shy smile. "Hard at work, you know. A lot of people need a little fixing up after this mess. Annie sends her love, and the baby is healthy. A lovely little boy."

Katniss nostrils flare and her eyes are wide open because if she moves her eyelids her tears will betray her. Her mother finally has her perfect daughter. A beautiful daughter who married a handsome man and had a healthy, pretty baby. Someone for her to take care of, to act like a daughter should. Dependant.

"That's nice, isn't that nice Katniss?" he prompts gently to Katniss, who's wringing a napkin like she wants to kill something.

"Nice," she agrees gruffly.

"Well, having babies around is always fun. Annie needs a lot of help, so I've been spending a lot of time over there. He's such a good child. I like taking care of him."

"There's a shocker." Katniss spits out, and it final severs whatever thread of conversation everyone was trying to have to forget the tension in the room. She's tired of tiptoeing. She's tired of pretending this never happened to her. She's tired of pretending her mother did half the job she was supposed to.

Peeta wordlessly ladles three bowls of stew, carefully handing one to Mrs. Everdeen and carelessly settling one in Katniss's hands, which she almost drops from his abrupt passing. She glares at him. He should be on her side.

They eat in silence. Katniss feels her mother's eyes on her, and longs for Peeta's. He won't look at her. She tentatively strokes her pinkie over the back of his hand, but his hand seizes and pulls away. She bites her lip.

"I'm tired." Her mother announces.

"Yes, of course," Peeta says warmly. "And thank you, for everything you did today Mrs. Everdeen. You were a big support."

Katniss blanches at him, but he doesn't look at her.

"Goodnight," her mother breathes out softly.

"Goodnight." He answers, kicking Katniss under the table.

"night." She whispers. Her throat is dry. She can't understand his anger.

He clears the dishes, and washes them silently. She stays at the table and watches him. Her eyes are big, her brow is drawn low. Her arms are crossed defensively over her chest.

Finally he finishes cleaning up, and he turns off the light definitively, leaving her in the dark to sulk or follow him. He doesn't seem too concerned which she does.

She follows him up the stairs with light feet, not wanting to relax her muscles because of his anger.

The bedroom door shuts before she gets to it, right in her face. Not quite slammed, but the intent is there. Her nostrils glare.

She shoves the door open, and on the bed he sits, taking off his shoes.

"I'm glad to see you and my mother get along splendidly." She spits at him.

He finally looks at her, and his blue eyes shoot ice through her veins. Her feet stop dead.

"You're not the only one in the world with an unfit mother, Katniss."

"Doesn't make her any less guilty."

"Did she ever hit you?" he counters, poising his brow in question. He knows the answer. He lured her into this. And his rage is understood in seconds.

"No. she just left me to die."

He scratches his head tiredly. "That's different."

She stares at him, stupefied. "Are you resenting me for not being beaten?"

He closes his eyes. "No, no, that's not it. I'd never wish that on you. But… you could have had it worse. And if she died, you would feel differently."

"No, I wouldn't. She can drop dead for all I care. She let Prim die. She left both of us for dead years ago." She growls out.

"Katniss, you have the chance to make amends with her. She's at least trying to be close to you. She's trying to care."

"Which is different from actually caring."

He closes his eyes. "Not too different. She cares enough to try."

Katniss stares at him hollowly, out-argued, out-numbered, out of ideas, and out of fight.

Tear slip down her face.

"She didn't love me enough to be strong for me."

He reaches for her, and she's in so need of comfort she stands before him, letting his arms slip around her. She stands between his knees, looking down at his face.

"That only shows how strong she wasn't, not how much she loved you."

He smoothes a hand over her face. "You wouldn't be the same person without it. You wouldn't have survived the games. Maybe. You do have so much fight in you. But it helped…" he smoothes his hands down her back. "Sweetheart, I'm not saying she should be your best friend in the world. I'm not that naive. I just want you to let it go. You're holding on to too much pain. Let it go."

She goes weak, and cries harder. She falls to her knees, and he draws her head up closer to him, cradling it against his chest.

"Shh, it's going to be okay. I love you. Can that be enough? I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

She nods frantically. "You're enough love for me." She looks up at him, with her shiny, teary face and smiles weakly.

He smoothes his thumbs over her cheeks. He kisses her brow, her eyes, her cheeks, her swollen lips. He kisses her throat, which he somehow seems to know feels raspy and stretched out from arguing.

He pulls her out of her dress, gently, and lays her down, holding her close when she grabs for him. And though she has nightmares and cries for Prim, he holds her all night. She sleeps, wakes, sobs. He sleeps, watches, soothes. Kisses are pressed to her skin. Hands smooth over her rigid bones. Words caress her ears. And she drifts back to sleep.

The morning light slowly finds them, and they hold each other, cling to each other.

"I don't know what to do." She says finally.

He ruffles her hair. "That's okay. You don't have to know yet, sweetheart."

And this is when she realizes how she can't get better without him. And once she gets better, she can't live without him.

She has her answer. But she isn't sure when she's going to hear his question.


	28. Chapter 28

She has been awake for a while before she allows herself to acknowledge it's the morning. Peeta's fingers trace lightly up and down her spine. She leans her head on his shoulder and he rests his head atop hers.

"So, what do you want to do today?" he asks gently.

Her lips turn up, because she's pleased right now, quietly content and greeting a rosy dawn holding his hand. She doesn't remember what she dreamed about. Each time she surged awake, bathed in blue light and tangled in sheets, she just remembers his crooning voice and strong arms. It turns her spine to string and lets her limb fall weak. She hums slightly in the back of her throat, looking at her feet.

"I don't know. I want to hide from my mother. Oh, and Haymitch is coming for dinner."

He nods against her head. "That's right."

His fingers move from her back to her waist, digging into her sides. She flinches, her breath catching in her throat.

"Don't" she murmurs absently.

Her eyes are closed, and her expression betrays how she really feels about his touch.

He grins, stroking over her sides. She writhes slightly, trying to maintain composure. It felt much better than she wants to admit, and is having a bit of trouble holding onto speech or coherent thought.

"Stop it." she bites out, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

He laughs and shakes his head. "You like it, come on."

"Nope."

He smiles, rolling his body to hover over hers. "So if you don't like it," he hisses in her ear, "why do you keep moving like this?"

He digs his fingers into her waist, and she's suddenly aware of how her hips are rolling and her legs are slightly parted.

She bites down onto her lip.

"I hate it." she says somberly.

He stops. "You don't like how it feels?"

Her head lulls back and she glances out the window.

"I don't like what it gives you."

He considers this. "I enjoy it because it gets a reaction out of you. I thought it made you feel good, which made me feel good."

"That's not what bothers me…" she whispers, shutting her eyes. Her throat is thick.

His body still hangs over hers, and they don't move.

"It's just…you have this upper hand…I don't like it."

"Upper hand?" He smoothes her hair away from her face carefully, staring into her.

"It's like…you hold the power. I can only ask you to stop or keep going. You can do whatever you want." She shuts her eyes, covering her face with her hands. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"No," he says softly, pulling her hands aside, "you don't like it because it's like I'm…dominating you. And you don't like submitting."

"Peeta, you're not tying me up…" she blurts out worriedly.

"No. no." he shakes his head, making a face. "I think we've been restricted too much to enjoy that. But Katniss…you can trust me. To just let me have my way with you, and make you feel good. You don't think I'd do something you hate, right?"

The pink tinge of her cheeks tells him no, she'd quite enjoy what he's offering.

"Look, I know this part of our life is sort of new to us, but there's room to try things. And I'm just asking you to try. Okay?"

She nods.

He grins wickedly.

"Not now." She says quickly.

"Why not? You seem ready to go." He glances at her bra, nicer than she usually wears, and tugs at the hem of her underwear.

"My mom's downstairs." She points out flatly.

"That didn't exactly stop you before." He smirks down at her, and it sends chills down her spine.

"I was worried about you. I was more concerned with making you feel better than the fact she was downstairs. And I was trying to be quiet." She blushes, and it makes him want to seize her lips in his own and possess her for the remainder of the day.

"Oh fine, just fuck me out of pity," he teases, smiling down at her.

She tousles his hair. "You know I didn't. I just… needed you. Needed to know you were back."

"Good way of making sure." He sighs. "So nothing, until she leaves?"

"I think so. I mean, she didn't notice that last time, but I don't want to risk it. I can't wait until she's gone."

"Now now, what did we talk about last night? Let's try to be civil, at least."

"It's gonna be tough," she sighs.

An idea ripples through his mind, and warms his face up with a smile.

She notices the lecherous glow. "What is it now?"

"How about this…" He sits up and pretends to be thoughtful, "we get through your mom's visit. You be patient and loving, like I know you are, and then it's over. And you can be as grouchy as you want as soon as she leaves."

She glares at him.

"Aannddddd…" he drawls out. "If you are hospitable and _try_ to get along with her, and make a good, strong effort, I'll make it worth your while."

Her head tilts, intrigued. "How so?"

He grins, and she loves that grin, that conspiring, mischievous grin. She can't help but feel her blood rushing. Her breath quickens.

"Well, you are going to let me do the work. You are going to trust me, okay? And listen to me. And let me tell you what to do. Maybe. A little bit." He rushes at the end. "Just try it, you'll like it. It's really going to be about you, and making you feel good."

She shrugs, clearly the loser of this argument. "What am I supposed to say to that?" she inquires good-naturedly.

"If you say no, then I'll be worried if you really are a messed up masochist." He points out helpfully.

She giggles. "Fine. I get through this visit, and Peeta can be the boss. For one night." She adds, catching herself.

"You've got yourself a deal." He finally leans down to kiss her, tangling his hands in her hair, grind his hips up into hers. She moans softly. Her hips shift up into his, and just as they do, he pulls away.

She stares up at him, stunned, trying to pull him back down.

"Nope. Your mother is downstairs." He mimics, climbing out of bed.

"Where are you going?" she tries to swallow the lump in her throat, to calm herself. She was much more wound up than she thought. "You can't just…"

"What? Let's build up the anticipation. By the end of this visit, you are going to want it_ so bad._" He smirks at her, shutting the bathroom door. She sits on the bed, cursing him for the way her heart is racing.

_A/N- sorry. I needed to write an allusion to smut. I grew bored. I also tried to explain why Katniss would engage in such activities with her mom in the house, which a lot of people objected to. Which I normally would agree to, but in the situation they were in, Katniss was just concerned with Peeta, and after that fear I think she would just want to connect with him however she could. Just my opinion, and you guys have yours, which is awesome! Hurray for disagreeing! Freedom! This isn't 1984, bitches!_

_Shit, shouldn't have called you bitches. Love you guys, forgive me._

_Anyway, I'm working on a more pure-smut series with these two, kind of like this one but more about their growth together sexually. So it's called Touch, keep an eye out for updates. Also my Finnick/Annie fic was relatively untouched I'd recommend it. _

_This is a really long AN you guys, sorry._

_Review review review! I love you darling readers, have a lovely night!_


	29. Chapter 29

She's a bit lightheaded. She stumbles through the woods, kicking at tall weeds, scraping her feet over rocks. She's distracted.

Her mother wasn't awake when she came downstairs, and Peeta breezed past her on his way out. He did seem to have time to grab her backside before running out the door, leaving her flustered and cursing. She could hear his laugh from down the road, on his way to check up on the bakery.

Her head is swimming with emotional conflict, cursing Peeta, loving Peeta, wanting Peeta, hating him. She settles herself onto a rock and takes a few deep breaths. She just needs to get dinner ready.

Her hands wobble on her bow, and she needs to stay poised and ready to strike for a few moments until she feels ready to let the arrow fly. She bites her tongue, jogging to pick up the fallen bird.

She muses about Peeta's proposition. What was it going to entail? He said he wouldn't tie her up, which was a relief. She wasn't sure she could handle that. He said he'd be in charge. Was he going to give her orders, commands, would he strike her? She knew that he'd heard of these things. In the capitol, illicit sex acts were trendy, and they couldn't help but overhear about certain stylists sexual escapades. It was the fantasy of a bored people; they needed controlled violence and excitement. It was like the games. The capitol could watch people die because they didn't care about these children, they were distant and safe. She once joked to Peeta that it was too bad the Hunger Games didn't have a safety word. He didn't think it was very funny.

So there was a shakiness to her breath at the prospect of his promise, hoping for something good, not this, and a little bit of dread in her feet. She loaded up her game back with a small feast for her guests, and trudged out of the woods.

She doesn't like how anxious this proposition is making her. It excites her, simply because it's Peeta, but she's also nervous. If he does what she thinks he might, she's going to be uncomfortable. Potential and expectation are on two very different levels, and the mix of the two leaves her weak-kneed and quick-pulsed.

So her feet lead her to the bakery, before she's fully thought things through. She rarely visits the bakery. There were too many ghosts, but every once in a while she stops in for his sake. He doesn't go every day, just a few times a week when they're not in peril.

Despite their unreliable business, the bakery is bustling with customers. Peeta is his usual charming self, taking orders and swinging in and out of the kitchen, re-stocking trays, wrapping loaves in wax paper, ringing up customers. He's laughing and seems to be in his element, smiling laughing, conversing with the customers. All of whom are decidedly female.

Her eyes sort of widen in surprise. She didn't know the bakery was like…this. A voluptuous blonde girl she doesn't quite remember settles her elbows on the counter, giggling with Peeta over something. He laughs sheepishly.

She doesn't notice her feet are stuck in place until the door swings open again, the bell in the frame dinging cheerfully, and the two at the counter glance up to see a customer brush past Katniss.

Peeta smiles. "Hey stranger."

She smiles weakly.

The oven beeps. And he has so much clearly on his mind, but he senses her discomfort first.

"Do you mind giving me a hand with the rolls, Katniss?"

She nods stiffly, not acknowledging the customer at the counter, who purses her pink lips in disapproval.

The door swings shut, and they have some privacy over the dull roar of girlish conversation.

"Are you okay?" He runs his hands up and down her arms carefully.

"Yeah. Yes." She clears her throat. "I'm just kind of surprised. You seem to be getting a lot of business." Her meaning behind her words is not lost on him.

"Yeah, well." He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, "the district is getting built back up, you know."

"Okay. Well." She clears her throat again. "I should go."

"Hey." He grabs her arm. "Are you alright? What you saw back there, did it bother you that much?"

"No," she blurts out, "Don't worry about me. I'm just being stupid." She gives him a smile, and they both remember what a bad actress she is. She pulls herself from his grasp. "I've been thinking too much today, and I just feel weird."

She heads out the door, head held high. She doesn't notice the crowd of girls glance from her to Peeta, all of them silenced. She doesn't notice how they know from her walk and her stance and her eyes that Peeta is hers. And most of them order their bread and whatnot with bowed heads and whispers, because Katniss Everdeen will hurt them if they cross her. Peeta can't help but smile at this for the rest of the day.

He carries what they'll need for dinner to the house. She's bustling around the kitchen already, and takes the bags from his hands as soon as he steps through the door. She doesn't seem angry, but the air is still charged.

"Katniss?" he asks quietly. That's all the questioning he can muster.

She glances up at him from the counter. "I thought I'd make soup, we can dip bread in it. I found some roots and stuff out in the woods, and got the rest from the garden."

He nods, surprised there was any life in their garden after the days of neglect.

"So… about today, listen, I didn't really notice they acted like that until you walked in."

Katniss doesn't answer, only messes with the stove.

Her mother breezes down the stairs, dressed nicely and carrying her suitcase.

"Are you leaving?" Katniss blanches.

He mother jumps, as though she's surprised that Katniss would be in her own house.

"No, well, not tonight. I'm just going to the station to reserve a ticket. I thought I'd head out at noon tomorrow. I mean, I don't have much to report to Gale. You seem to be fine."

That is clearly said for Katniss's benefit, and Peeta shoots her a grateful look for it.

"Okay," Katniss replies faintly.

Her mother moves soundlessly out the door.

"Back to what we were talking about, I'm sorry if that upset you."

"What are you talking about? I'm not upset."

"Don't be like this." He follows her across the kitchen. She settles her hip against the counter and crosses her arms.

"Like what?" she distracted and clearly doesn't want to talk things over. Too bad for her, Peeta does. Because part of this argument excites him, and he really wants to get to that part.

He places both hands on either side of her, settling his palms on the countertop.

"Like you're jealous." He enunciates perfectly in her ear.

"I'm not jealous." She answers automatically.

He raises one eyebrow.

She fidgets, not liking his closeness at this moment.

"Look, I had a lot on my mind, and I wasn't thrilled to see the bakery filled with your adoring fans."

He grins, bending down to kiss under her ear. "I knew it."

She wrenches her head back, staring out the window. "Shut up."

"Hey," he guides her chin forward. She glares up at him. Her lips are pursed in a certain way and her eyes are glassy. He focuses in on her face. He knows this look.

"What's wrong?" he slides a hand to the small of her back. "Don't feel bad. I'm sorry. You can be jealous. You just have no reason to be."

She shakes her head, shutting her eyes tight.

"Come here, let me show you."

He lifts her hips and sets her on the counter, parting her legs. She whimpers as he kisses her face, claiming her lips sweetly. He digs his hands into her with his grip, pulling her close. She feels utterly possessed, and his kiss is so firm and insistent she can't help but return it. He grinds his hips into hers. She whimpers again at the contact and clings to him.

He pulls his head back, cradling her face to make her look at him.

"I'm all yours, you know you have me. Always. I'm right here." He brushes his thumb over her cheek.

She rolls her hips again, her mind checked out and just her body reacting. He smiles at this.

"If this is what will convince you, just wait until we have the house to ourselves." He whispers over her lips, kissing her gently. "But before that…"

He pulls away suddenly, leaving her hanging and almost screaming in frustration.

She adjusts her clothes and slides off the counter, legs shaking. He sees this, and her flustered expression, her shaking hands, and can't help but be aroused by the sight of her. Her reaction to him is growing through his denial. He loves how he affects her.

She continues making dinner and ignoring him. He questions this experiment of trust. Maybe letting him have control was a lot to ask. Maybe he should have gently tried it out, a little at a time, not all at once. But she was the one with the power. She had to know it.

Her mother creeps back through the door, and sits at the kitchen table. Katniss leaves the soup to heat up on the stove and settles on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest. Peeta settles down beside her, stroking her back in a way that makes her head spin. Mrs. Everdeen gets up and ghosts around the room. Her fingers brush over the plant book. Katniss flinches, watching her mother's every move. Her mother flips through the pages. She stops on a picture of Prim, drawn by Peeta, who is smiling and studying from a book. Katniss feels her mother's gasp, as she has gasped the same a million times as well.

Katniss wants to curl up inside herself and leave these two people behind. She just wants to be with her sister; if not her sister, her sorrow. She's falling back into a dark place.

"Did you draw this, Peeta?" her mother breathes out.

"Yeah. It's something Katniss and I are working on. A little bit of history."

Her mother thumbs through a few pages. "And you've been writing it?"

"Katniss usually writes down all the details. Then I sketch them down, if I can."

Katniss spots a sketch of Rue and flinches. "Dinner should be ready soon." She gets up and goes to the kitchen. She hates the thoughtful look on her mother's face.

Haymitch knocks noisily against the door. His shirt is sloppily tucked in. but he shaved. Katniss decides to take the good with the bad and lets him in the house. He settles at the table like a lump. He glowers up at her. She smiles sickly-sweet at him and plops a bowl of soup in front of him. She ladles out three more bowls and grabs some bread, setting the table hurriedly. Her mother and Peeta are talking softly in the next room.

So she eats soup with her older alcoholic twin. They glower at each other and don't speak.

Just once he mutters, "you are nothing like your mother," and it's a little bit hateful and a little bit admiring. Tears prick her eyes, from guilt and from gratitude.

Eventually Peeta and her mother join them. Peeta praises the soup and asks Haymitch about the geese and how was hunting and how Annie is with the baby? He tries to get everyone talking, but he's surrounded by three quiet people. One is surly, one is anxious, one is tired. And when she is flat out ignoring him, he runs is fingers along her inner thigh under the table, and she surges underneath his touch. She curses the hint of a smirk on his face.

Haymitch glances at Mrs. Everdeen. He looks like he wants to say something, and thinks better of it. He eats sloppily and announces he needs to sleep. He stumbles home.

Katniss wants to throw up. She's tense about her mother in her house, she's tense about Peeta torturing her with his hands and his words, she's tense about when he stops teasing her and for when he owns her, she's tense about why there's so many women at the bakery. She clears her plate and goes upstairs, leaving her mother and Peeta alone.

She lies curled up on her side for a long time, until Peeta enters the room. He slides into bed behind her and rubs her back gently.

She whimpers softly, leaning into his hands.

"Somebody is ready to go," he muses.

She groans softly, covering her head with her pillow. "Just fucking touch me, Peeta."

He grins at her language. "I am touching you."

"You know what I mean."

"Nope." He smirks, kissing her neck gently. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

She groans loudly this time.

"Tomorrow," he hisses in her ear, shutting off the lamp.

She wakes up very early, sure she heard something downstairs. She sits up, trying not to stir Peeta from slumber. He looks peacefully asleep; his brow is smooth and untroubled. She smiles at this.

She realizes she's thirsty, and stumbles down the stairs. Shakily she holds the glass in her hand, walking numbly towards the hall, when she sees the plant book is open. Cursing her mother, she stumbles to it. A few sheets of paper are tucked into the seams.

It's not her handwriting. It's also not Peeta's.

She settles on the couch with the papers, and in the blue pre-dawn light she reads.

_Katniss,_

_I remember when you were a baby; you decided you didn't want to nurse very early in your life. Your father just kept reassuring me you were independent. He was so proud of you. And you were fussy with me. Never with him. Whatever I tried to do never seemed to calm you down. I didn't know what to do. It was tough. But he'd come home from his shift, no matter how tired he was he'd pick you up and hold you, and you'd quiet right down. He'd hold you and sing, and before you could even talk you'd make little sounds like the notes he sang. You two were always singing together. You loved each other. I was envious of what you two had. It was really beautiful. It was the same with Prim. You'd take her from me, and hold her and sing to her, and immediately she'd stop crying. You always knew how to take care of her, no matter how young you were. Your father was proud of you at five, and I think he'd be even prouder of you now. You were born knowing who you were at your core and I'm proud of that, very much so. I know you're angry with me. I understand why, and I deserve it. I can never understand what you went through. I admire you, which is probably my failing. You clearly don't need me, you never have. So while I can't be there for you, just remember, I loved your father and Prim so much, and I love you, and we're all that's left of the four of us. _

She didn't have to sign it. Katniss's eyes filled with tears, and she sat on the couch until the sun rose, and Peeta came stumbling down the stairs looking for her. He gave her a concerned look, but she shook her head and handed him the note. He read it, squinting in the light. He took a deep breath and joined her on the couch, slinging an arm over her shoulders. She let herself be wrapped up by him. She let herself be small in his arms. She let herself be a child, because when he was there, she could be.

And they sat in silence, small and raw, until the sun was fully in the sky. They didn't have much to say.

_A/N- okay, I updated twice in two days. I wrote you five pages today. Let's see some love in the form of reviews. _


	30. Chapter 30

Katniss doesn't remember rising from the couch. But the sun is up, and glinting off dust particles in the air as she moves down the hallway. She doesn't remember if Peeta dosed off or if he just let her go.

Her fingers trace over the doorknob to her mother's room. She stops, knocking softly.

She hears a confirmation allowing her in. She eases the door open like it's made of eggshell, walks like the floor is even more fragile.

Her mother is curled up on her side, in a tight little ball. Katniss knows what it's like to sleep like that. Feeling small and contained and marooned on the sheets. She perches at the foot of the bed, not sure what she wanted to say to her mother before she got there. Her mother looks at her with weary, dreamy eyes.

"So, you're leaving at noon?"

"Yeah. I should probably get packing."

The room looks like no one's been living in it. What is there for her mother to pack?

"That's a good idea. It's almost nine."

Her mother sits up and looks at her cautiously. "I know you want me to leave." She says tiredly.

"I haven't seen you in a long time. It was weird. I haven't even heard from you. So I don't know what I want right not. I wasn't expecting anything."

Mrs. Everdeen nods at this.

"Maybe you could write to me," Katniss suggests.

Her mother's lips turn up cautiously. "That sounds like a good idea."

"I'd like to hear about Annie and the baby. You know. How they are without Finnick." She says softly.

"Well, maybe you could write back. I'd like to hear how Peeta's doing. And what you're up to."

"Maybe." Katniss says faintly.

They stare out the window together, looking at the view of the garden in the backyard. The primroses growing strong stemmed and determined.

They stay like this for a while, until Katniss leaves her mother alone to pack up and be ready to leave.

She walks into the kitchen, stretching her arms out like wings.

Peeta smiles up at her, stirring some eggs to in a bowl.

"How'd it go?"

"Weird. But I think we're better off than before she came."

His face breaks out into a huge grin at this. "I'm really proud of you."

He reaches for her, and she can't stand anymore teasing, her muscles seeming coiled to the point of snapping. She brushes past him. She settles down at the kitchen table, leaning back in her chair. "I did it."

He smirks.

"You bet you did." he murmurs, stepping behind her. Her back stiffens as he pulls her hair over one shoulder, baring her neck. He kisses behind her ear, and her body warps, her back arched away from him with her head thrown back against him, each action betraying her in different ways. She scrunches her eyes shut, gnawing on her lower lip.

He snickers somewhere behind her, breathing against her neck in a way that made her forget how to form coherent words.

His hands settle on her ribcage, holding her in place. "Don't be like that. You can't honestly tell me you aren't a little excited?"

She grits her teeth, trying to ignore the way his thumbs are brushing up and down her ribs.

"Peeta, my mom could be out here any minute." She hisses at him. She knows this isn't going to scare him off yet. It's worth a try, but she's right. He keeps going.

"Answer my question." He says simply, wetly kissing her neck. She groans. "Please don't do this."

She feels his smile against her neck and the gentle shaky brush of air as he laughs.

"Then tell me how you feel," he prompts, easing one hand up to brush the underside of her breasts.

"You damned tease." She hisses.

He leans his chin on the top of her head. "Yeah, but you like it."

"I do not."

His thumb rubs over her nipple, which is quite evident in her arousal.

She whimpers.

"Patience," he whispers, "Why don't you answer my question?"

"I'm frustrated," she grinds out. "I'm very, very frustrated."

He smirks, pulling out her chair and spinning it to face him. She gazes up at him warily.

He kneels in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Then isn't it a relief to know that very soon, we'll be all alone?"

She shudders. "Yes." She says, heavily, meaningfully. "Peeta, what are you going to do to me?"

She's a little frightened. She's not sure what this tortuous game is leading to. But he shoots her a reassuring smile, and it's just him, not this strange, new side of him that keeps showing up. It's just Peeta.

"Nothing you won't like," he promises.

She fiddles with the collar of his shirt.

"You're not going to…hurt me…you know…?" her eyes are wide at this. His smile vanishes.

"No! Of course not. I would never…" he runs his hands up and down her back soothingly. "It's not about punishment, not at all. It's just…I can't exactly explain it. Making it worth the wait, I guess."

He grins at her, leaning up to her lips. He kisses her slow but with a lot of pressure and force, with no escape. She knows this isn't a sweet, loving kiss. She knows what he's alluding to.

He stands up, brushing himself off. Peeta continues making breakfast as though nothing's happened; his face is blank and eerily cheerful. He pours the bowl of eggs into a frying pan, but she thinks the better use for the pan is to hit him over the head with it. She stares up at him from her chair, seething.

"You are enjoying this way too much." she grumbles.

"I agree." He answers cheekily, just as her mother sort of wanders into the room. Katniss notices this. Her mother's movements never seem to have purpose. She sort of just stumbles upon her actions, nothing is planned.

Mrs. Everdeen smiles wanly at Peeta. "Good morning."

"Morning." He answers cheerily, serving the eggs onto three plates.

He hands one to Katniss, who jams a forkful into her mouth, only to have it burn her tongue. She chokes on her food, spitting it onto the plate.

"Sorry," she grunts, sounding a lot like Haymitch.

"Katniss can never wait for it to cool off," Peeta jokes, innocently, but his words sing through her mind.

Katniss locks dark eyes on him, which he returns. He calmly begins to eat his breakfast.

Her mother smiles cordially, taking a bite. She's a bit zoned out, staring at her hands.

"I always forget to blow on them first." Katniss says airily. Peeta shoots her a look that makes her entire body feel heavy.

Her mother simply nods, not getting what the two teenagers are referring to, waging war with foreplay.

They eat mostly in silence, unless Katniss or Peeta find another double entendre to sling at each other. And they sit at the table for a long time, in a comfortable silence, only tense from Katniss and Peeta's previous discussion.

Finally, it's after ten, and her mother wants to get to the station early. Katniss doesn't object.

Her mother is walking away. Katniss can't say she's choked up. She's mostly relieved; so much was building up in anticipation for this visit to be over. She can't say she missed her mother. She can't say she was entirely happy with seeing her. She doesn't want to thank her mother for the letter yet. She isn't ready to act like she was grateful for anything really.

But they loved the same people, she keeps reminding herself. Her mother loved her father and Prim just like she did. That was all she had to love in her mother. It had to be enough to try.

So she awkwardly hugs her mother, realizing it's the first time they're touched the whole visit, and her mother gathers her bags, thanks Peeta for his hospitality, and strides down the road.

Just like that, she's gone.

Katniss turns to Peeta.

"Well, looks like we're on our own." She points out helpfully.

He smirks. Clearly he has a lot planned.

_A/N shit, I have to figure out what Peeta has planned. _

_Anyways, review, and the next update will come faster! I promise! _


	31. Chapter 31

"Okay," She begins to announce. "I hate this."

"Katniss, I haven't even done anything yet."

He glances up at her, amused but wary; from the spot he was resting his lips on her neck. One of her hands is woven in his hair; the other is settled quite uselessly on her belly.

She shifts her gaze to the ceiling. Her breath rushes out her nose. Her legs feel shaky. He's straddling her, trying to tempt all the sounds he loves from her. But she lays silent, her body tense.

His lips are too slow and his hands are too gentle. She wants him almost violently, grasping and pulling and forcing.

He shifts himself on the bed, sitting up. "You seem a tad bit distracted."

"I'm waiting for you to get started." She mutters, glaring at him.

"Katniss. You're laying there like a corpse."

She glares at him, shifting away nervously.

her eyes flicker with the possibilities of what could go wrong. then her pupils betray how she thinks of what could go right.

She's nervous of the unknown, whatever it is. But holding his hand, or caused by his hands, she's safe.

He smoothes a hand down the side of her face, fingers brushing her ear.

"I want you to think about something for me, okay?"

"Okay," she answers, wide-eyed.

"The bakery yesterday."

She grimaces and lets her head sink back into the pillow. He crawls up her body, whispering in her ear.

"You were jealous, admit it. I could see it. You were so territorial. The minute you walked out of there, everyone knew just from looking that _I was yours_." He chuckles. "Isn't that nice to know? That I'm yours?"

"Yes, it's nice."

His hands start ghosting up and down her sides.

"I want to feel that way Katniss; I think I deserve a turn. So how about we make you mine?"

He lifts her hips up, hands pressing into her backside. He grinds into her parted legs, pulling up her skirts. She whimpers, feeling so different to what she felt moments before. She lets out a high pitched whine.

"Please," she murmurs.

"I want to be sure you're mine."

"How do I prove it to you?" she gasps out.

He raises his eyebrows. "I don't know. You tell me. You _show _me."

She holds him tight, roughly grinding herself up into him, cursing the layers of clothing in her way.

"What did you want to do yesterday, or when you saw that girl talking to me?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

He cradles the back of her head firmly, kissing under her neck with a passion and force that makes her toes curl.

"You know what I'm talking about."

Her legs lift and wrap around his waist. "I guess I wanted to show her that we belonged to each other."

His hand reaches down and rubs her over her underwear a little faster and rougher than what she's used to.

She hisses in pleasure and jerks her hips towards his hand, which he stills against her.

"Did you want to show her, or me?"

She bucks her hips, furrowing her brow. "I thought you already knew that."

"I still like reminding. Show me how you would have reminded me."

She follows his order, rolling on top of him. She sits up triumphantly, one breast already hanging out of her dress through his efforts to undress her. She takes his face in her hands.

"I want you," she says thickly.

He grins up at her, lifting his hips up against hers. "I know."

"_now._" She adds, grinding down onto him.

He snickers. "Why don't you ask nicely?"

She rolls her eyes, kissing him. His hands stay exactly where she doesn't want them; on safe, un-sexy parts of her. She rolls onto her back, hoping he'll take the hint and take charge.

"Peeta, come on." She grumbles, pulling his shirt open and easing it off of him.

He shrugs off his shirt, but only hovers over her.

"I don't think so."

He eases himself against her like he's lowering his body into bathwater. He sighs, enjoying the feel of her warmth, like it relaxes all of his muscles.

She grumbles underneath him, pulling at her dress.

He stills her hands, removing the garment himself.

Something in him changes, and the illusion of disinterest and control is gone. He's feral, pulling at garments; freeing skin, grinding, groping, holding. Katniss's heart goes wild in her chest with excitement of fulfillment: finally.

He pulls off her underwear and bra easily, shoving himself back on top of her.

Her breath whooshes out of her lungs, and she's in such a state of surprise she cries out. He hungrily kisses the sound away, not allowing her to catch her breath.

His hands dig into her, rough, raw and over-stimulating.

He kisses down her body; wet enough to leave a cool trail in his wake. She shivers as he pushes her legs apart, holding them down. She bites down on her lip as his breath flows over her core. He glances up at her, eyes dark.

"I want to hear you." he says simply, kissing her clit.

She moans quietly, then louder, then with the increase in pressure and fervor, she cums loudly, quickly. She's waited too long, been too worked up in anticipation, that it takes nothing for her to go. Her spine relaxes from the relief, because she's wanted this so much. She does not, however, expect him to keep going, pinning her legs harder when she attempts to close them. She tries to buck her hips, but once again he restricts her movements.

"Peeta…" she glances down at him nervously.

He lifts his mouth from her for only a moment. "Just enjoy it." He orders. She obeys.

He keeps going. Her chest is stretching and heaving and she cries out, tension inside her building once again. She tangles her hands in his hair, begging to be allowed to move her hips, just a little, please. He ignores her plea, slipping two fingers inside her. Her walls clench and squeeze around them, and she cums intensely as they curl inside her just right.

He lets go of her legs, and she pulls him up to her. She grips his torso tightly, gasping, trying to regain logical thought. Breathlessness eats her alive. The sight of his face, the warm glow of his skin, his smile. It's nearly too much.

He grins, observing her little spasms and pants, kissing her sweaty brow.

"Please," she whispers finally.

Peeta stares down at her, very much pleased with himself for getting exactly what he wanted from her, for reducing her to such a state, to being the one in charge.

"I'm yours Peeta," she continues, even softer. "Now please, I want to feel you. I want to forget about how I felt yesterday."

He kisses her gently. "You shouldn't feel like that. You have nothing to be jealous of."

Her legs wrap around his hips, and she feels just how focused he is on only her. She blushes, embarrassed by this bout of vulnerability and submission. They come together, equally eager. Someone gets his pants off; the jumble of hands makes it hard to tell who. She grabs him by the hair, bringing his lips to hers and kissing him as hard as she knows how to; and than a little harder still.

"You sure you want this?" he teases, muffled by the blind fury of her lips.

Her eyes cut into him like cold knives, and he shivers, laughing at himself.

"Okay, okay, I get it." his hands slide around her hips, guiding himself inside her. She groans into his lips, gripping his shoulders as he moves in and out. Her fingernails rake down his back. He hisses, biting his tongue.

"You're a little spitfire today, aren't you?"

She smiles coyly up at him. He grins, rocking his hips especially roughly into her.

"You got me so wound up, what do you expect?" she groans out, allowing him to kiss her neck, teeth grazing her skin.

"Oh, don't flatter me." He murmurs, gently dragging his teeth over her earlobe. She shivers.

She hitches her legs higher, pleased to find it felt much better this way, and she figured it out on her own for once.

One of his free hands begins to rub her clit, her hips spasm.

He feels his oncoming orgasm, and lifts her hips in a quick attempt to get her there. She moans loudly, and he wants to cover her mouth because her noises don't do wonders for his stamina. He kisses her; a welcome compromise.

He picks up his pace over her clit, and she groans loudly, shuddering around him for the third time.

He follows her, grunting deeply and burying his face in her neck.

She's overcome with calm, and curls her arms around him, not letting him move. He lies next to her, tangling his fingers in the tips of her hair.

"You should get jealous more often." he sighs into her ear.

"No." she answers shortly.

_A/N I was so anxious about writing this chapter. So much anxiety, so much re-writing. All this build-up and talking big and expectations and….ugh, I can't perform. It's like actual sex! _

_Jokes._

_This chapter was a little less thematic or even plot-fueled. Obviously. That was kind of the point._

_Hmmm…where to go from here…_

_Review?_


	32. Chapter 32

He isn't quite sure what to do next, so he dances. In nothing but his boxers he moves slowly and gracefully across the floor of their room.

She cocks her head quizzically, watching his small, controlled sways. She smirks.

"What on earth are you doing?" she pulls her underclothes back on, sheets drawn over her knees.

He grins, encouraged, and starts humming. His fingers wrap strong and sure around her wrist. He pulls her up off the bed.

His arms wrap around her waist, dipping her dramatically backwards. She squeals as he pulls her back upright quickly, her hair tossing wildly. He moves her, back and forth, swaying gently. She likes the motion they create together.

He twirls her, flinging her body away only to spin her back to him with the gentlest tugs of his arm. She smiles when she comes back into his arms, feeling dizzy.

She likes the proximity of his smile, his face leaning down to hers, so close she feels a bit cross-eyed. She giggles, nervy and happy.

He looks stern for a minute. "We need proper music. Sing something."

She smiles; pink, fully kissed lips curving upwards. Her cheeks flush.

She hasn't sung in a time of joy in a long time. It was always comfort, or trying to soothe, or trying to help them remember.

"_I'm the salt, and you're sugarcane_…" her voice floats out, gliding through air smooth as a skater on ice.

He closes his eyes, resting his chin on the top of her head, listening to her voice, like honey- thick and golden.

They move slowly, feet only shifting in light steps back and forth. She sings. He smiles, sighs, moves his hands over her body.

They spin gently, moving together, not perfectly in synch, but still together.

He touches her safely. His hands have enough demand that she feels like she's his. She likes it.

She shivers, letting the words leave her lips without running them through her mind. They come easily, and she trusts them, and his lips twitch up at her shifting gaze.

He grins his terrible, wicked grin. She can't help but smile as the final notes of the song drift out. His hands slide over her backside and squeeze, and she pulls his hair lovingly. His left hand wraps around her thigh, lifting her leg to wrap around his waist.

Without music, without words, without speech, they are stranded in dead air with nothing but their own movements. This doesn't scare them. They smile and face the fading sun. Their skin is cool from sweat and their hair is wild from each other's hands through it.

He lifts her, easily, striding to the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist and giggles. He kisses her, pressing her back up against the wall. She grins, mimicking his devilish expression.

He drops to his knees, pressing kisses to her bare belly, her soft thighs, her hands as she tries to push him aside.

She laughs as rich as her song was, batting at his head gently. He gazes up at her, eyes glinting.

And they just look at each other. She bites her lip and he's enthralled. Her eyes open for the way his chest moves as he breathes. He stares at her hips, which are sweetly rounded. She loves the orange glow of sunset glinting off his hair. She's looking down and he's looking up.

He stands, wordlessly, pulling her waist in a bit more forcefully than usually. She stands on her toes to kiss him and he holds her like her bones are made of eggshell. He plays with her hair like he's observing the value of fine silk.

And in the regards to one another, something shifts. They hold each other, not like lost children, but like two people who are grown-up. She's a woman and he's a man, and they were made for each other, to be this way. They're not trying to hide anymore, forced together by fear. They chose this. She doesn't blush. His eyes don't leave her shyly. They regard each other without shame. They admire what they know to be true and what they've learned to love.

His fingers trace her spine, protectively. The outside world is lost. They glow in the rage-orange light. They are very serious, their jokes have drifted away.

Until she smiles up at him, tentatively. He knows she must have felt it too, this strange moment of clarity. He smiles back, kissing her lips sweetly, scooping her up and settling her back onto the mattress. He holds her as carefully as possible. She traces gentle fingers

She's still the same, but different, and he's different, but the same.

_A/N- __the song Katniss sings is Sugarcane by honeyhoney. Excellent band, check them out. They fit right into the Hunger Games soundtrack. It fits the mood of this scene._

_Review and stuff. You know. Typical nagging me. _


	33. Chapter 33

She rolls them over, straddling over him gently. Her hips are still. Her eyes are dark. Her hands grip his shoulders.

He smiles up at her lazily. "What are you doing?"

She shakes her head slowly, smirking. His grin widens beautifully, and he shifts back into the mattress. His hands crawl up the back of her legs.

She stares down at his chest, his body, with a curiosity that can't be extinguished. She can't get used to it. This body against hers. This breathing person pressed up to her skin. Not just a person, but Peeta, despite all impossibilities.

He gathers her hands in his, placing them on his chest. He isn't afraid to look up at her with the same wonder, the same surprise. His eyes are soft. His hands are warm around hers.

"We're going to stay like this, right? For a long time?"

She takes a deep breath, not letting her eyes stray from his perfect expression. He's just a little nervous, which makes her relieved.

"I'm not going anywhere." She answers softly. "Despite your best efforts."

He grins sheepishly. "The temptation was too great. I was thinking "out of sight, out of mind" you know, that crap."

She smirks, rubbing her hand gently over his heart.

"Guess that didn't work out for us."

"I'm very glad, that it didn't work out. That you're here. That I didn't ruin everything."

She sighs, "Peeta, you had the best intentions. That's what hurt, that you thought you were helping me."

He closes his eyes, brow furrowing. "I was scared, for both of us. I always thought the fits came from anger. But it was fear. It still is fear."

She bends forward, tucking her head under his chin. He holds her like that, not letting her move from the close contact.

"What are you scared of?"

"Hurting you. Losing you. Waking up and finding myself back in a cell, awaiting my next punishment."

She clings to him, tears pricking her eyes. "I don't want you to wake up. I don't ever want you to wake up."

"I won't," his hands brush over her back gently, his voice croons, "This is what I always dreamed about. I won't wake up this time."

She nods. Her body is soft and relaxed over him. He loves how soft her muscles are, for once, and the gentle give her skin has under his fingers. He kisses under her ear intently.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Losing you. Doing a disservice to the lives lost. Losing control. Becoming my mother."

He squeezes her gently. "Whatever you're scared of, I won't let it happen."

She believes him. Taught strings through her body holding her weight, her burden, snap. Not dramatically, but the tenseness of pulled string is gone. Relief. Release.

She closes her eyes tiredly.

"You know I hated when you rejected me."

He flinches. "I know."

"It made me feel so awful. It was hard for me to offer myself to you. And you pushed me away. It stung."

"I know. I felt the same way for a while."

She bites her lip, lifting her head to gaze up at him.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs, smiling. All is forgiven.

"It's alright. We got it sorted out eventually."

"Quite sorted." She nods at their entwined bodies.

He smirks, and again the sensation hits them. They know each other so intimately. They are the ones sharing a bed. A home.

Finally, shyly, she pulls herself up to kiss him. He grins against her lips, accepting her, pulling her in further. Her stomach knots again; in a different way, in a way that's exciting and magic and perfect. His name is a flutter in her chest, pulsing through her veins. She's occupied with him.

"The day I wake up and can't spend another day with you is going to be the end of the world." he admits, smoothing her hair out of her flushed face. She chokes a little at this, gripping his shoulders.

"That's why that day isn't coming."

_Ever._

Her next kiss expresses this, with the permanence of her presence. He knows. He can feel her promise, in her chest, fluttering against his. Her trembling lips. The grip of her hands. She's not going anywhere.

And he's amazed, and overwhelmed by her. he lets he have her way with him later, stripping his boxers off him and riding him with unsteady, heavy, shifting hips. She doesn't look away from his face, at least only briefly, to gasp or hiss because of the feel of him inside her. He loves her slow movements, her focus, how determined her face is. Her brow is set like she's trying to set a complicated hunting snare as opposed to achieving orgasm.

He loves her. He loves her so much he can do little else but look at her, as she cums blissfully around him. Her tossing hair and straining neck and choking voice. He works himself into a frenzy; thrusting up into her tight heat, until he too sees pinpricks of light and his hips spasm and he grunts out her name and nothing else comprehensible.

He watches, stunned speechless, as she rolls herself off him, a sweaty, inarticulate mess. She murmurs something like "…so…you…good…" but that's all he can make out. Her eyes are closed, not a line on her face to evidence unpleasantness. He smiles, and watches her drift off to sleep.

"I wanna marry you." he murmurs, brushing her sweaty hair out of her face.

She dreams, of things quite similar to his want.


	34. Chapter 34

She likes his cheek against hers the next morning, ruffling her hair and grunting gently as he wakes. She likes fluttering her eyes open to the blurry image of his hand settled over hers, squeezing gently. She sighs softly as he shifts behind her, arms curling around her waist. She bites her lip, not wanting to stir the moment.

But he kisses her cheek, and slides out of bed easily. She watches his back shift while he dresses. She grants herself a small smile, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling before closing them again, contentedly. He tosses a shirt over her face playfully. She growls, pulling it to the side to glare at him.

He chuckles, buckling his belt. "You slept well last night."

"Yeah," she grumbles, rolling on her side and propping her head up on her hand. "Did you?"

"Haymitch started screaming an hour ago. It's let up, but I feel like we should check on him."

Before the words fully make their way out of his mouth, she's pulling on clothes and braiding her hair quickly. She stares at him while her hands work at the back of her head.

"What kind of screaming?"

"Angry. I don't think he's in any danger, except for maybe from himself. Just the usual crash of bottles breaking and swearing. He was three sheets to the wind."

She nods grimly, like the mother of a child perpetually asked to be seen after class.

He places a hand on her shoulder. "He's going to be okay."

They wander down the stairs, stepping over the pile of mail she kept meaning to bring in and sort.

They hold hands and walk across the road to Haymitch's house. They don't speak. Katniss trots up the porch steps a few feet ahead of Peeta.

Haymitch's house reeks intrusively of liquor. More than usual. Not the usual layer of moroseness fragrance-ing the air, but the air itself feels fermented.

Katniss holds her sleeve-covered hand over her nose, opening all the windows. Light hits the dust she upsets; the air seems to shimmer with the minuscule white dots.

"Where are you, old man," she barks out, worry tingeing her voice more than she wanted to admit. Peeta rolls over bottles with his feet, following tentatively behind her. He coughs, looking afraid.

Something rolls over on the ground, bottles skittering away like mice. Haymitch barely sits up, glowering at them. A letter is clenched in his hand, stained yellow. It doesn't look that old.

"Dj'you get yours?" he growls.

She crouches next to him, like she's listening to a whining child. "What are you talking about?"

"Your _invitations._" He slurs so badly she almost hears _invasions_, and her heart nearly stops.

Peeta leans against the back of a soiled couch, staring down at them. "I wasn't aware there was a party."

"Humor will get you nowhere." Haymitch barks, tossing the letter to Katniss, who bends over it.

Katniss lips move as she reads; her voice pronouncing halves of words and phrases.

"Reunion?" she yelps.

Peeta moves to her quickly, leaning over her should to read. "What?"

"They want to air a reunion of the remaining victors. To see how we're all doing. To put us all back on the screens." She's seething. Her jaw is rigid. She can't even blink she's so angry.

"Who's they?" Peeta asks nervously.

"Whoever's responsible for cleaning things up. I'm guessing the same people who wanted me to be the Mockingjay." Katniss scans the letter again. The interview, which will include all former Victors, will be a three hour special with one-on-one interviews, reunions, and all the victors together in one room for a solid hour.

Haymitch remains laying down, folding his hands on his beer-swollen stomach. "Effie's coming to escort me, and probably you two. And I think they'll do anything shy of kidnapping you, they want to see how our star crossed lovers turned out. Still giving them quite a show, aren't you?"

"Shut up." she retorts, not maliciously but with an edge that made Haymitch drop it.

"So what's the catch? Are they gonna lock us in a room and watch us kill each other?" Katniss sits down, burying her face in her hands tiredly.

"They know better this time. There's no more Games. If there were, and something happened to one of you two, we'd have another revolution. And their government is much easier to overthrow that the capitol. They must want to show off how well we're doing under their power." Haymitch has to speak slowly from the liquor flowing through his breath. But he knows what he's saying.

Katniss glances at Haymitch with raised eyebrows, forgetting how smart he could be.

Peeta vanishes for a few minutes. Katniss and Haymitch sit in silence, except for the occasional vocal goose outside. When his heavy footsteps return, Peeta holds the letter in his hands, their letter, and tears it open.

"It says basically the same thing. They're just letting us know we have an interview together all three of us, one with just me and Katniss, and another along with one of all the victors involved in the revolution. So Johanna and Annie'll be there." He glances up, shrugging. "I think the worst that could happen is some bad memories. Maybe it'll be better to talk about it."

"It's not going to…set anything off, is it?"

They were all time bombs. Getting stepped on the wrong way and they could detonate. And not just this sad trio. They had seen the other victors. Johanna. Annie. Anybody could be a destructive mess.

Peeta shrugs, looking at her tiredly. "They won't leave us alone unless we do it. We might as well give them their little show and move on."

She nods, not pleased with this answer.

"Effie's stopping by tomorrow. We leave within three days. We don't have to stay in the capitol long." Haymitch grunts, looking thoughtful

_What's left of the capitol_, she wants to correct him.

Katniss stares at Peeta, who looks a little tense. She shrugs, like he did moments before, brushing herself off as she stands.

"Well, Haymitch, we'll leave you to get everything tidied up before _Effie_ arrives."

Her capitol accent is perfect, if a little inappropriate at this time. Haymitch grumbles something under his breath, kicking a bottle to roll under the couch. At least he was trying.

She grabs Peeta's hand again, squeezing tight. He looks down at her, his lips in a firm line.

"Sweetheart, its one night. We can do this."

She gently pulls the letter from his hand, shoving it in her back pocket.

They walk home, with a sense of retreat weighing on their shoulders.

_A/N A-ha! I figured out another way stretch out this story! Mwa-ha-ha! I'm sitting before my laptop stroking my villain-cat planning to keep this story going on for…gosh, I have no idea. This grew beyond anything I thought it would be when I wrote that one-shot last summer. _

_I may go through separation anxiety when I finally wrap up this mother. I love writing it. Almost as much as I like reading reviews (Subtle, Maddie.)_

_Happy New Year everyone, thank you all for reading. Your support keeps me going, especially those reviewers who read what I write, and offer advice to make what I write even better. This story has helped my writing grow. This is my longest story yet. I can't wait to see where everyone ends up._


	35. Chapter 35

It's blazing hot. Hot as hell, the air stagnant and dead.

The sweet tea she made sweats out of its glasses, leaving wet rings on every surface its set on. She squeezes his hand gently as she hands him his glass, he ignores her.

She watches his face.

He stares at the floor, deep in thought.

They sit on the floor in the living room, because it is too damned hot to do anything else.

"Penny for your thoughts?' she murmurs tiredly, trying to smile.

He glances at her, obviously interrupted in his own little world. "nothing." He bites out.

For her, it's practically a slap in the face, his short tempered answer. Her eyes narrow.

"here's what I'm thinking about," she tries out, playing dumb. "Cameras. Viewers. Questions. Reliving and re-watching a lot of painful stuff."

He flinches, taking in a deep breath.

She's provoking him. She wants to get it out of his system. She's cranky and irritable and scared and she just wants the moment where he's the angry one, the sullen one, the one who needs help.

"We're going back to a world we thought we destroyed." She continues, her voice made of gravel and razorblades. "A world that nearly killed us. Fame. Glory. Acting."

His nostrils flare, and his eyes give a look that despise her. She keeps her gaze even and her face unflinching.

"Katniss," he warns darkly. "Don't."

"Does that scare you?" she tips off, and he snaps.

She couldn't say she wanted it to happen, just knew that it would and had to get it over and done with. He lunges. She leaps out of the way, grabbing his arms roughly. They kneel in front of each other while he struggles against her grip. She pushes him back and he falls onto the floor, his body shaking in spasms. She's satisfied with violence. She wants an excuse to use force. She's so angry, about the upcoming attention and pressure. She wants to fight. But he doesn't try to hit her.

It stirs tears from her eyes, his control. He only struggles, but doesn't lash and strike. Even when she places herself by his side, smoothing his hair. She hums little lullabies to him.

Immediately she is sorry for provoking him, a heavy feeling sinks in her gut because he didn't take her bait, not really. She only upset him further. She wants to cry, and hit herself. She smoothes her hands along his chest.

"Think of something nice, think of last night." She soothes gently.

His eyes flash at this, because part of him remembers what he said to her sleeping face.

"We're going to have to fight in the games again." He says weakly, still shaking.

"Not real." She drums her fingers against his chest. "not real."

"The capitol's going to imprison us."

"not real, not real."

"We're married."

She freezes. At that moment, she wishes it were true. True so he could have something real, at a time like this.

"You haven't asked me yet," she whispers, curling a hand along the side of his face.

He looks up at her, confused.

"Stay with me, don't wake up." she murmurs, softly.

"I haven't even asked you?" he's dubious, in the most innocent way possible.

She places his head in her lap, kissing his brow.

"I love you." she whispers. His eyes shut, pondering what just happened. "Real," she continues.

"Also, I'm sweating like a pig, real." She jokes, trying very hard to distract him.

He nods wordlessly. He sits up, then stands. He picks up her tired body, carrying her to their bathroom and setting her down on the cool tiles. From a glass of water, various faucets and washcloths, he drips water on her waiting skin. She flinches at each cold drop, shuddering. His hands drag over her legs, stomach, arms, neck, face; followed by a few droplets of ice water.

She sucks in her breath, not wanting to enjoy the anticipation of cold relief. He smiles vaguely. It's like he's forgotten about the interview. Only for a moment. He watches her face.

"We're going to be okay." He says quietly.

She lifts her torso to look at him better, cocking her head.

"Yes. It's one night. We've been through so much more than a night."

"We've had minutes more painful than this night will be." He points out, and she nods in agreement. She tangles her hands in his hair, kissing his brow.

"We have each other. It's going to okay."

He holds her the way she is, leaning her brow against his, his hand looped over the back of her neck, rubbing his thumb over a pulse point. It's too hot to touch any other way. She shivers, feeling twice as sturdy with his body touching hers.

The sun sets, the stars rise, and they rise too. They get ready for bed with windows gaping open, because it hasn't gotten much cooler.

They feel safe as they each nod off around the same time.

They don't anticipate the nightmares returning.


	36. Chapter 36

There were steel traps under the porch. Her father never left them ready to strike, but their metal teeth would shine in the right angle of sunlight, and Katniss was afraid of them. They were never used, waiting for the first taste of blood, rusting in the mud. The neglected traps her father bought by accident. He never used them.

In her dream, the bite into her legs, fingers, arms, neck. Mutt's teeth made of bear traps cut her into tiny pieces. She has to cut her limbs off to get free, but is she's free, she cannot run.

Peeta feels her body twist and flinch under the sheets. Her leg seizes as if suddenly a hot iron touched it.

"Are you scared?" he whispers. She stares back at him, her voice lost in her throat. The air around them is a tensed as a guitar string, with no faith in melody from strumming.

She rubs her eyes awake, finding tears that haven't yet managed to escape.

He stares at her wordlessly, panic swelling under his Adam's apple. She offers a weak smile, a wordless gesture as silly as a ruffled flower handed between sweaty children's hands. He refuses the gesture. His face is too somber. She hates it.

"Nightmares?" she chokes out.

He nods.

"No one can hurt us. We're too valuable."

"You're too valuable." He answers. "I was a capitol toy."

"No," her fingers move along his temple, trying to soothe the tension going on inside his head. "No, you're the reason I'm alive, you're the second half of the most famous duo in Panem. And they want to see you happy and strong as much as they want to see me…however they see me."

He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring in a way that sets her on edge.

"Go back to sleep, sweetheart." He says finally, rolling onto his back and running a hand over his face distractedly. She watches him stare at the ceiling, curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek like a child. Her eyes flicker to his hands, wanting one smoothing the tension at her back, but she stays silent. For some reason, she does not want to sleep with her back facing the door. She rolls over, a little sullenly, from his lack of attentiveness.

She sighs, and apprehensively allows sleep to take her hand and lead her away.

Only to wake with a hand on her throat.

She's pulled roughly out of the trance of dreamless slumber. Her body surges in surprise.

She flinches. Her reflexes all act, though her eyes lag to open. That is one reflex she barely needs. She knows who it is.

She can breathe fine, normally, he hasn't applied pressure. He just stares down at her, tears staining his face. He growls "mutt…mutt…mutt…" over and over.

He's hovering over her, and it strikes her suddenly, the gyration of his hips. His eyes are so dark and so deep. And he's pressing his pelvis down into her lower belly. She's felt him like that before, but not in this situation. Not with his murderous glare hovering over her.

She pushes him off, _hard,_ and draws the sheets over her body.

"What was that?" she barks out, forgetting his mental state. "What the _hell _was that?"

His face freezes, recognition and responsibility wavering in his eyes.

He blinks at her, and while he's done worse, they know that, they really _know_ that, neither of them understand what happened.

"I…" he blinks down at her. "I don't know. I- I was having a nightmare, you were this mutt and I saw you and I just…"

"Peeta, what was going through your mind? Tell me."

She looks up at him patiently, knowing it's gone, for now, what was making him like that. He'd been like that before, but the grinding of his hips, that was new. And they had to clear that out immediately.

"I don't know Katniss. Sometimes it happened in my cell. Dr. Aurelius said it was probably because I was going through puberty and….you know. I couldn't get you out of my head."

She takes a deep breath, because it was hard enough to understand his attraction to her before he was trying to kill her every other day.

"Peeta, this can not happen again." She says stonily.

He looks so ashamed. She wants to take it back, but knows for her own sake, it had to be said.

"When do you talk to Dr. Aurelius?"

"I call him from the bakery. He's not crazy about waking up before six to talk to me, but I'm alone then, and it's nice to just talk while I work."

She bites her lip, feeling betrayed by the secrecy.

"You should be talking to a doctor too." He says softly, reaching for her arm.

She flinches, not forgetting what just happened.

"Hey," he continues softly, not withdrawing his hand. It hovers in the air between them, "a couple days. This'll be over. We'll be normal again."

"We'll still be sick." She answers hopelessly.

"We're healthy enough to live." He points out.

She draws her knees to her chest, resting her chin on a bony kneecap.

He shuts his eyes, still visibly ashamed.

"He said it was a dominance thing." Peeta points out nervously.

She glances up at him, "What?"

"My…impulse during the fit. That I sexualized you when I couldn't control you…" he takes a deep breath. "Like…I need to make you mine."

"I'll punch your lights out if you even think that justifies you ever…"

"No!" he bursts out, grabbing her hands in his. "Never. I won't do that, and don't ever speak to me again if I do. But this is why it happened. There's something just…I wish we could be, subconsciously, and I want you. So I act aggressively."

Katniss blushes at him, though her eyes say she's still not convinced.

"Is this going to happen again?" she asks pointedly.

She doesn't mean fits in general.

He squeezes her left hand gently. "I'll feel safer…if you answer a question."

Her eyes lock on his. He can't read the answer. It bites at his heart.

He can't ask her like this. He returns her hand to her, fingers brushing over her palm lovingly.

"Do you want me to sleep in the other room?" he whispers.

She looks at him, hollowly. Her eyes flicker in fear. She just wants this to be over.

"I'm scared."

Of this damn display. Of traps. Of unwelcome ghosts. Of what he can't control. Of what this could turn into.

She looks into his eyes and sees his shame of what he can't control and tries to anyway. Yet she senses something.

He knows what the purest act between them has ever been. She sees every muscle in his body in complete rigid attention. He's running himself, to never let that happen.

When she learned to defend herself, she noticed how his body was less tense. Like he felt a little safer against the possibility of hurting her. He was secure, knowing they were a little more prepared, a little more snug.

He was going to fight this. He looked her dead in the eyes now, knowing she was going to sleep safe from him in their bed tonight and every night remaining in their cursed time together. With every fiber of his being. He wouldn't force himself on her like that. He'd sooner run away.

She gives him a slight nod. He takes her chin in his hand, pressing his brow to her with eyes clenched shut. He cries for what he did, and the sobs move against her body, breath tangling into hers.

"I promise." He begs her. He needs her to forgive him, and to know he won't let it happen again.

He curls his arms tight around her. He doesn't own her in the way he holds her. He clings to her like she's made of stone and he's being tossed away by ocean waves. Like she might cast him off.

She holds his arms in place, and they tighten.

She doesn't have peaceful dreams. Neither does he.

She sort of gets what she wanted, something to cling to during the night. She's less scared.

Throughout the night, they both wake in tears and panics and cold sweats and fear. But they stay linked together.

As she drifts off, each and every time she kicks them awake, his whispers in her ear all of his promises. He uses a lot of words, mostly ones like "forever" and "safe" and "together"

_A/N I worked my ass off trying to make this not too…how do I say it? Digging myself deeper into themes I can't tackle. But Peeta was a physically tortured teenage boy, I've felt for a while he would have this problem. But it's not going to be the next dark plot, don't worry. I feel I handled it alright._

_Do I think he what did is okay, NO, but I feel it would actually happen. Geez, Suzanne Collins, why did you leave them so impossibly mangled at the end of Mockinjay, with no transition between crazy and baby making? Oh wait, that's why I wrote this story. Right. _

_I need to stop being so vocal in ANs, but man…these Anons are killing me. I'm kind of scared to open reviews now. But then I get amazingly kind reviews, and they light up my day. Thanks for the support and appreciation. I'm wrapping this baby up in a few chapters, though I'm not sure how many yet. The interviews are going to be elaborate, I hope._


	37. Chapter 37

The fragrant cloud of Haymitch's liquor is being valiantly battled against. The air reeks of perfume, strong stuff, smelling vaguely of something once alive.

Effie's arrival is announced by none other than Effie herself. Her voice trills through the air, shaking tree limbs, kicking up dust. Gravel crunches under spike heels. It was a cheerful symphony awakening the victors.

Katniss raises her head from Peeta's chest, squinting.

His fingers thread through her hair. "Go back to sleep."

He pulls her head down quickly; not roughly, more insistent that they pretend they didn't hear Effie across the road.

"Peeta…" she chides wearily, knowing they can't prolong the inevitable.

"Shh…" he rubs gentle circles against her back. "Go back to sleep."

She sighs softly, closing her eyes. "Honey…"

"please." His lips quiver. He tries to hide it.

She presses her cheek closer to his ribcage. "Alright. Go back to sleep."

Neither of them sleep; but they each pretend not to know it. Effie and Haymitch's quarreling rages through the air, soaring through their window. Her fingers curl around his. He rubs his thumb over her hand.

They just try to breathe, and to ignore the pounding at the front door.

"Hello?" Effie trills, "Anyone up yet?"

Katniss groans, and from the look on her face, Peeta lets out a cross between laugh and sigh.

He pulls the covers off her, kissing her brow.

"I'll make some tea." He says softly, smiling a little, as if the whole solution to their problems came in a mug.

She sighs, pulling herself up. Her head lulled to the side tiredly, closing her eyes for a moment, wishing to collapse down onto the mattress.

She wanders to the closet, which she avoids. She always wears the same clothes shoved in her bureau. Pants she can wear to climb trees. Shirts that she can slip on…and off. The plainest of sundresses. Nothing flashy, with arrays of pleats and buttons. Nothing to frame her. She could feel Cinna's disapproval of how she presented herself.

And in the closet hung his creations. The closest she ever came to a glimpse into his mind were the dresses he envisioned. She trusted him, befriended him, felt twisted with guilt from his absence, but the lack of understanding of him made her stomach curl.

Cinna. His simple, direct words and appearance. Someone who created such grandeur, such elegance, for a sprawling stumbling little girl. Who made her unforgettable.

She owes so much to Peeta in the first games, for capturing the hearts of her audience, but before any of that she owed Cinna for catching their eye. Without the eye there was no face to their romance. The girl in the gown of flames? Oh yes, she is loved by all, especially the sweet, humble boy who wants nothing more than to live with her.

She breathes out her nose evenly, trying to release the thoughts in one quick breath.

Peeta slides behind her, watching her consider the clothes.

"I told Effie we'd join her at Haymitch's in a half hour."

"Poor Haymitch," she croons.

She glances over her shoulder at him, and the intensity of his gaze makes her nervous. She twists back around, trying not to let her shoulders rise to shield her neck.

He still stares at her, her imperfections. Not quite flaws, but things that were not perfectly smooth or clear. Frayed ends of her hair, splitting like the limbs of a tree. Nails that looked sawed at. Dead, dry skin on her feet.

They'd be gone soon, snipped and sanded and smoothed away for the cameras. She's a little less Katniss. A little less his.

She pulls out a light blue dress with a swinging skirt, holding it towards him to consider.

"It's nice, against your skin. Makes your hair look really rich brown."

The perks of living with an artist. She smiles slightly.

"That settles it." she pulls on the dress, and her boots, because her compromises only go so far on the trivial details.

She considers a few more of Cinna's masterpieces, carefully folding them into a bag, just in case.

She braids her hair carefully, and fluffs her skirt. They hear the faint whistle of the kettle.

"Tea?" he offers hopefully.

Her mouth is dry. "Not thirsty." She lies, avoiding his eyes.

It's hard to forget his face the night before. Him pinning her down. Poking into her body.

"We might as well spare both of them from each other." She says, lifting her bag.

Peeta nods, glancing at his own neatly packed bag by the door.

"Might as well." He agrees, shamefaced.

They need each other to get through this week. But they're too scared of each other right now.

They walk in silence to Haymitch's house after Peeta shuts off the stove.

Effie is perched on Haymitch's couch, her body going to great lengths not to touch any more of the stained fabric than absolutely necessary. She offers a small smile, pink lips turning up. Her hair is no longer elaborately pinned and coifed, but falls down her back in cascading ringlets. Not as ostentatious, but grand. She looks pretty.

Haymitch slouches, forced into a button-down shirt. Porridge is dripping down his face.

"We have some catching up to do, how have you two been?"

Effie asks this in a trivial manner, as if they've been on holiday.

Katniss offers a demure smile.

"We've been positively awful."

_A/N sorry for the short chapter after such a long wait. Theater things. Tech week. It's over now. Free time. Yay!_


	38. Chapter 38

He tries to hold her hand on the train.

She's too tense to really feel the affection in the gesture. Just his grip, heavy and strong, reaches her mind. She feels trapped.

Her heart swells up into her throat.

They wander the cars for most of the journey, avoiding each other. Haymitch is too upset to drink. He fumes, clutching a full glass of something that smells like it could peel paint. Yet he doesn't sip. He glowers at Effie, who seems to be writing something.

Peeta stares out the window glumly. Effie's furious scratching pen is driving them all to madness.

Katniss can't help but be curious, and peers over her taffeta-clad shoulder.

Effie smiles, exposing perfect white teeth.

"An advice column." She says primly, her chest swelling with pride. "Specializing in etiquette. People write in for the proper protocol for an event and I give tips and suggestions. It's nice to feel useful."

"It really is." Katniss's eyes glaze over at the every perfect detail outlined in an answer about place settings for entertaining higher-ups at work. But it makes Effie happy, and it really is what she was meant for.

She pats Effie's shoulder gently. "I'm happy for you, Effie. This is the perfect thing for you to be doing."

"Manners are never out of fashion, like I always say." Effie smiles though, straightening the stacks of papers. Capitol women seem to desperately need advice on the proper way to butter a roll or what color suggests respect.

Katniss bites back a smile. Effie can be useful, to some people. Katniss can't help but be happy this silly woman is needed somewhere.

Katniss and Peeta wordlessly part into separate bedrooms at night. She can't sleep without him, but needs…space.

The dreaded word.

She never wanted for there to be a time where she sought separation. She just needed to think things over.

She felt they reverted to some terrible time, where they had to try things and test the limits of touch on each others bodies. It makes her nervous.

Because he was unsure if she was his.

Which frustrated her beyond belief, because how many ways was she supposed to say it?

She finally sits in the chair across from him as he stares out the window, covering his mouth with his hand.

He smiles at her gently, raising his brows like he expects her to speak.

"I love you." she says quietly. Haymitch and Effie are bickering a few feet away. She's not sure how she feels about them knowing.

"I love you too."

He stares back at her. God, she wants to touch him, she really does.

His bright eyes and lovely skin and his hands…

He notices her staring, the multiple times she swallows thickly and the flutter of her eyelids.

His lips twitch upwards, and its the least forced his smile has been in ages.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you weren't scared of me anymore."

She blushes, glancing out the window.

"You're the one who wants me to be yours."

He raises his eyebrows.

"…I just mean, I was wondering what that would require of me." She twists the fabric of her skirt.

He closes his eyes, sighing deeply. The sigh can not be described as melancholy, disappointed, frustrated, or anything negative. The sigh curls in her spine, cascading down her bloodstream.

"You're going to get us in so much trouble." He groans. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, what was it you thought about. Doing to me, when you got like that."

She focuses on the blur of trees out the window.

He clears his throat. "Control played a big part of it."

"Would you…hurt me…?"

He closes his eyes.

"Not that I remember."

"Then what?' she says loudly.

She turns pink, retracting into her chair.

"If you want to talk about what the darkest parts of my mind planned on doing to you, we can talk in private." He points out quietly. His voice is dark. It makes her heart race.

She grows flustered, only because part of her wants to know.

"I was just wondering, why now…?"

He sighs. "You know what I want now? You want to know why this came back?"

She nods stiffly, trying to look like she's casually curious.

He bites his lip. "I want to marry you."

She stares at him, dumbfounded. "This is what made you attack me like that?"

"No, but I was having a nightmare that you left. You just…never let me close to you. I don't know. I get scared sometimes. So while I can't control myself, I try to control you."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm as much yours as I am my own. Peeta…I feel like marriage isn't going to change what we are. What we have."

He nods. "I know. But I like the word." He smiles sadly. "There's something really sexy about calling you my wife."

She gulps at this, her face growing flushed.

"Well, how about I tell you that it's going to be what you can call me, someday."

"I wasn't proposing right now. I'd like you to think I'm a bit more romantic than that."

"I wasn't accepting a marriage proposal. More a proposal of a proposal."

"We are getting really good at planning."

"We'll have a June weddin' with garlands." She brings a limp-wristed hand to her bosom, swooning.

He laughs, loudly. Effie glances up at them. Katniss shakes her head, laughing. Explanations for another time.

When Effie looks away, Katniss smiles warmly at him.

"If you propose to me on camera, you great romantic, I may be forced to leave you."

He wrinkles his nose. "Honestly, I wouldn't blame you. Unless you were planning to propose to me that way. I may be a bit disappointed."

"Oh no." she closes her eyes and chuckles. "Don't tell me you're going to be one of _those_ brides."

"It's not like you are. One of us has to have their special day."

She shakes her head.

"You're making elopement sound really, really nice right now."

"Run away and get married? Who are we running from? The cat?"

She smirks, kicking his leg gently.

"Careful there, don't question the bride."

He smirks. "You really are going to be one of _those_ brides."

She smiles, feeling warm and tingly. Her feet are jumpy. This accepted proposal of a proposal is making her a bit more giddy than she'd like to admit.

He kisses her hand gently and goes back to staring out the window. They catch each other staring at one another every few minutes, each of them getting a turn to blush and look away.

They near their destination. Katniss sees a shape on the platform.

Dark, wild hair and a white billowing dress. That's the only person Katniss sees on the platform. She sees another, smaller person wrapped in a blanket in the woman's arms. Annie and her baby.

_A/N I wanted Effie to be happy. Good old Effie. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I'm trying to get this finished up._

_Whoa. This wedding stuff came out of nowhere. Hope it doesn't feel out of place. _

_On an unrelated note, my goal for 2013 is to read 100 books. Yep. I'm insane. But I have 8 down already. The reason I bring this up, Hunger Games fans, is if you have any recommendations. Goodreads is failing me in that department. So if you have any character/relationship heavy books you love, let me know. We can discuss them and it'd be real fun. Also, friend me on goodreads! Reading parties! _

_ user/show/4217484-maddie_


	39. Chapter 39

Annie's eyes hold a new light to them. A bit more focused. A bit more clear.

Her smile is tinged in sadness, but it's directed at something. She's a bit less jarring.

She hugs Peeta with a bit more force and affection than she does Katniss. Katniss's hug comes with a tight smile, not angry, but forced. Peeta receives a shiny-eyed look of understanding. They nod at each other. She sniffles.

Katniss watches the former partner in torture, avoiding the gaze of the somber toddler standing at his mother's feet.

She ignores the shiny hair, the startling eyes. She just can't look at it yet.

Annie loops her arm through hers, speaking rapidly. A relatively painless affair, apparently, was the interview process. After some intervening, it's simply a two-hour group interview, all of them set up in a room together talking about the war and their attempts to move on.

"They'll edit it together and air it in a week. We're filming tomorrow. Stylists are sparse. This is quite a small gathering." Annie smiles tightly. "We didn't want to go, did we, little man?"

The child blinks his unfocused eyes.

Katniss blanches at the child. He's distracted, pulling at his mother's arm. He doesn't speak, or emote at all. Katniss is a little worried.

"But, we compromised with some producers and directors. We'll be on our way home tomorrow afternoon, won't we, honey?"

Again, the child doesn't respond.

Katniss holds back a pained sigh. Surely, they could have spared the child this. The fatherless child. With deep, ocean-like eyes.

She nearly bumps into Johanna.

She's tanned, short-haired, and muscular.

She smirks like someone who's seen hell and laughed in its face.

Katniss can't help but smile and hug her difficult friend. Johanna returns it with strong arms, clapping her on the back.

"Glad to see you two together. He hasn't ripped out your throat yet?"

Katniss and Peeta flinch.

"No," Katniss replies, I won't let him."

Johanna's eyes sparkle for the briefest moment.

"You two must want to get settled before dinner."

She takes Katniss's hand, and then Peeta's. Annie trails behind them, scooping her son up in her arms. Katniss allows herself to be dragged around off the train platform, glancing at the very much downgraded Capitol. The buildings look submerged in a layer of dust. There's less fervor in the streets. The voices echoing around them are lower pitched, sounding older.

Katniss glances over her shoulder and smiles kindly to Annie, who return a knowing smile, closing her big eyes and nodding.

_No, we're not perfectly happy Katniss, but we're trying._ Her smile tells Katniss everything. Yes, Finnick's son has had a difficult laugh. He's not all there.

It's like a knife twisting in her gut when she sees his little hands holding a piece of rope, tying elaborate, unbreakable knots.

_A/N- I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But once again, the muse of depressing sang me a song of mentally damaged people. And that baby could not have had a normal childhood. Please don't throw bricks at my head._

_Short chapter. Just bouncing some ideas around, but wanted to publish something tonight._

_Just another interactive request, I'm writing another story. Like my own story. Not Fanfiction. It's still in its early stages. So I need help, critiquing and such. If you're interested, the first chapter is published on fictionpress. Message me if you're interested. _

_Here's the link. _

_ s/3096890/1/_

_Self-promotion FTW_


	40. Chapter 40

Peeta's eyes never leave that baby. Katniss hasn't seen him pay such close attention to anyone but her or…a pastry.

Something swells in her chest, part affection, part disappointment, part melancholy. She knows he's always been good with kids, in a way she never could be.

So at dinner, Peeta pushes out his chair and crouches by baby Finn, making faces and singing stupid songs while she watches, silent. She threads her fingers through her hair tiredly, offering Annie a small smile.

And to her shock, Finn smiles. The somber faced baby lets out a slight gurgle, and then a hiccup. Then laughter. Peeta drops the napkin he had draped over his face for comedic affect and beams. Annie claps. Johanna rolls her eye, hiding a smirk with a practiced sneer.

Peeta scoops up the toddler and tickles his ribs, propelling both of them into hysterical laughter. Katniss's smile grows pained. She leans her face against her hand.

"He's going to steal that baby. Annie, keep your eyes peeled. He's going to try to walk away with it tucked under his jacket or something." Johanna says pointedly.

"Oh, stop it," Annie takes a sip of wine, not taking her gaze from the boys with her warm, tired eyes. "Finn needs a father figure. This is a godsend."

Katniss wrings her napkin nervously, feeling the weight of Peeta's hopes on her shoulders.

"Check his suitcase if you can't find Finn after this is over." Johanna shovels steak into her mouth.

Peeta ignores them, lifting Finn and spinning him around the room. Katniss's heart surges. He's so good with kids. He's so loving. It's quite beautiful to watch.

And painful. She closes her eyes and lets her mind wander. When was the last time her body had been able to create life? She couldn't remember the monthly burden of fertility. Clearly, this was something she didn't have to worry about for a while. But Peeta was worrying. It was written all over his face. He was ready for a family.

Her fists clenched at the prospect of another child to worry about. She didn't feel safe enough. She doubted she ever would. No, it won't happen.

Finn needed a father, if only temporarily. Peeta needed a son, if only temporarily. How fortunate of them to cross paths.

"How's it really been?" Katniss murmurs to her friends.

"Rough," Annie admits, shutting her eyes. "I miss him every day. Sometimes I want to hide in my room all the time, and my thoughts stop making sense, and I cry constantly but…"

Johanna raises her brows. "But?"

Annie sighs. "But it's not just about me anymore. It's about our child. Finnick would be so disappointed if I was so selfish as to neglect our baby. He'd never do that to our baby. So I get out of bed, brush myself off and make breakfast."

Katniss stares at her, her heart up in her throat, choking her.

"It's not too terrible. I have friends. If I need someone to watch him for a few hours, I have lots of help. It could be a lot worse. Finn has a million old village women cooing over him. What he needs is a father"

"Is Finn…always like he was earlier?" Katniss doesn't know how to phrase it. The detachment in the child's eyes.

Annie shakes her head, her springy curls swinging around her shoulders. "No. he's shy. And sometimes he gets a little depressed. But he can be very happy when he wants to be." She says the next part loudly, catching her son around the waist and kissing his cheek. Peeta takes the opportunity to grin widely up at Katniss, raising her eyebrows at her.

She manages a smirk, cocking an eyebrow. "Cute kid."

"My thoughts exactly."

He smiles, a smile that melts her bones like sweet liquor. Her spine slinks down a bit, her limbs languid and loose.

He takes her hand, and his intention is there.

She takes a deep breath, trying not to look away, but god, she's scared as hell.

So she pulls her hand free and turns to Johanna. "So what about you, what's new and noteworthy?"

Johanna grimaces. "I need a hobby, that's for sure. I'm bored off my ass."

"You should try killing squirrels."

She makes a face at Katniss. "That doesn't solve all of your problems, contrary to what you believe. And I prefer bigger game."

Peeta chuckles, taking his seat next to Katniss and tossing an arm over her shoulders. "You're going to make her mad."

Katniss shoves him gently, and then turns back to Johanna.

"Look at you, big in the britches. Telling me you're too good for squirrels."

"I am."

"It takes precision to shoot a squirrel." Katniss grins, leaning back in her chair like an old man bragging about his glory days. "Focus, patience, attention. They're small and fast, hard to catch. Don't insult the work that goes into capturing a squirrel."

"You're insane."

"It's been said before."

Peeta kisses her cheek sloppily.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Get a room."

"Actually, we prefer to have sex in front of our loved ones, on the dinner table." Katniss shoots back sarcastically.

There's a shocked silence. Annie raises her eyebrows, looking a little pleased and a little more peeved over what was just said in front of her baby. Johanna gapes with a look of mild approval. Peeta's stunned, proud smile sends chills through her.

"Wow. Didn't think you had it in you, prude." Johanna smirks.

Katniss shoves a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. "Shut up."

"Star crossed lovers of district twelve. First you got that stick out of your ass and now you can _joke _about it?"

"Please, there's a baby at the table," Annie pleads, but doesn't seem all that concerned. She brushes a hand over Finn's wispy hair and kisses the crown of his head.

"Where'd you learn to talk like that? Don't tell me he taught you?"

"It was a joke. Jesus. Stop taking it so seriously. Drop it."

There's an awkward silence, while Peeta, Annie, and Johanna exchange knowing smiles.

"I'm very happy for you two." Annie whispers cheekily.

"Shut up."

_A/N Have I lightened the mood? Not the best feedback from my latest chapter. Sorry guys. Feelings are natural. It's okay to have the feels. Mockingjay was about having the feels and tragedy and a destruction and-WAIT OH NEVER MIND WE'RE BETTER NOW, WE HAVE BABIES!_

_And that is why Mockingjay is a butt. The end. _


	41. Chapter 41

Katniss felt the slightest presence of weight on her eyelids. Her eyes started to stay fixed on one stationary spot, nodding softly to whoever was talking.

Eventually everyone grew quiet.

The conversation spun slowly out of synch, everyone grew quiet after an hour.

Finn fell asleep on Peeta's lap, having spent most of the night being passed around the adults. Their voices grew soft as they sporadically thought of something to say.

But now Katniss is the one holding him. Peeta faked and excuse like needing to grab a picture of the bakery to show off the Annie, and passed the toddler into her arms. She flushed when he did, raking her mind for the polite way to say 'get this baby off me' but she failed miserably.

Her eyes are as big as plates, her hands twitchy and nervous, she held the child. She didn't even remember holding Prim at this age. She isn't used to it anymore.

But Peeta strides back into the room without the picture, smiling triumphantly.

Finn naturally buried his head in her shoulder, curling up and breathing steadily. Another flutter of life that could never cease to shock her. She is scared to breathe for fear of upsetting him.

Annie smiles softly, exchanging a glance of approval with Peeta. Johanna ignores everyone, leaning her chin on the table and swirling the contents of her glass with a look if practiced disinterest.

Katniss just stares down at the fluffy hair brushing her neck, trying to ignore Peeta's fingers trailing her spine. She tries to ignore his eyes, locked on her face, searching for the same sweet longing he was feeling. For one of their own, to share.

She bites her lip, and began to hum.

It was a nervous habit, something to break the tension.

But when the notes turned from wordless sound-mush to clear lyrically syllables, everyone grew quiet. Annie closes her eyes and let her head rock back.

Johanna draws a deep breath, staring straight ahead with a frozen face.

Peeta smiles, reading into this action as much as Katniss feared he would.

She finishes her song several verses short, just trying to end to silence of everyone else.

"Shit," Johanna mutters. "That was the most surreal part of seeing you those first games. Seeing you sing like that. I couldn't help it- I just started smiling."

Katniss raises her eyebrows at her friend.

"I mean, damn. You just threw the games back into everyone's face. You made us love that little girl as much as you did. For once, the audience didn't want to see anyone die. No wonder the capitol felt so insulted by you."

Katniss ducks her head shyly. "I was never doing anything on purpose."

Annie smiles. "That's why we believed you."

Katniss doesn't know what to say. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally Johanna stands and announces her apparent exhaustion. Annie takes her baby back into her arms, and makes her silent goodnight. She seems to trail down the hall like a ghost.

"The table's all yours, you crazy kids. Go nuts." Johanna calls over her shoulder.

Katniss flinches.

Peeta chuckles softly, drawing her under his arm and kissing her cheek.

She sighs, closing her eyes and leaning in to him.

He takes her hand and gently traces his fingers over the lines of her palm. She wonders what divinations of life and love could be found in the indents of her skin.

"You looked really beautiful tonight." He murmurs.

She gapes at him. "What?"

He kisses her brow. "You looked really beautiful when you were singing to Finn."

"Oh…" she tucks her face in his neck, rubbing the bridge of her nose into his pulse point.

"He loves you." She adds softly.

He grins. "he's a great kid."

"You feel that way about every kid."

She smirks up at him, kissing him quickly.

He pulls her in for a kiss that lingers on every nerve of her body.

"Do you want to…stay in my room tonight?"

"Yeah," she says softly, in the quiet voice of someone half asleep.

"Good. Then we have the whole…interview thing tomorrow."

"That's the plan." She leans against him.

"Okay."

He scoops her up, surprising her slightly, and carries her down the hall. It's nice. Her bones rest against him. She isn't clinging at him. She lets herself be weak in his hold on her.

After he fumbles with the door, it swings closed behind them softly. Her lips curl up in a tired bow. He pulls on the end of her braid gently, settling her on the foot of the bed.

She collapses backwards, feet panted by the floor. He crouches in front of her.

"Do you want to…?" he gazes sheepishly at her. Her eyes flicker with amusement, her lips pulling up in a smirk.

"Sleep?" she teases him, pushing her foot against his shoulder.

He rolls his eyes, grabbing her foot to keep her from moving.

She sobers, examining the look on his face.

Fear is undercut in his eyes. But there's something else. Something she recognized before.

He was picturing their future. Future; the big damned word that never seemed real to them. It was their impossible dream, the one that was too frivolous to imagine except on special occasions.

She pushes her upper body up on her elbows and stares into his eyes.

She can't breathe from the intensity of his gaze.

He drags his body up over hers. His fingers ease her dress open. Its slides down her shoulders. He lets his mouth find hers. She lets him push her onto her back, pulling her legs tight around him.

She eases herself open for his tongue, letting him run his hands up and down her thighs. She pushes his pants off him. He holds tight to her, grunting in pleasure when she wraps her hand around his cock.

He bucks his hips against her hand slightly.

"Please," he murmurs, pulling at her underwear.

She raises her hips for him.

He pushes her back down; pressing his body so tight against hers she can't even manage to arch her back.

He kisses her neck gently as his hips move like the ebb and flow of the shoreline.

Her lips are curved up in a pleased way, this isn't an earth-shattering time, but it's still beautiful in its tender unhurriedness.

He works kisses over her body trying to draw out little whimpers. He usually succeeds. She holds her hair tight in her fists, biting her lip. He kisses it free from her teeth.

With the gentle caressing help of his fingers, she cums, crying out in a small voice.

With her inner walls so tight around him, she pulls him with her. He groans, relaxing his body against hers.

She loves being crushed by him. She can only concentrate on the weight of him on her, and she's freed by it. To have nothing else to worry about but the body over hers is a beautiful thing.

In the quiet, sweaty aftermath, they cuddle together in a failing quest for pleasant dreams. He holds her so tight; her breathing is a bit labored.

"Do you think we can have children?" he whispers softly.

Her eyes snap shut; she rolls onto her side and clenches her jaw.

Was this why he did all this? Ever since the beginning?

She stares at the wall, refusing to move her eyes as he stares at her.

"No."

She closes her eyes before she can see the sadness in his face.

She pretends to be asleep.


	42. Chapter 42

She didn't scream when she woke. She didn't thrash and kick and cry. She didn't grab at hands around her throat, felt no shortness of breath, no stinging of old wounds. Just silence and her deep breathing. She hadn't moved, she lay perfectly still.

Katniss lies in a state of mild shock, her nightmare slightly soothed by her reaction.

Tears had gathered on her cheeks, but they weren't flowing anymore.

She watched his back shift for each breath he took.

She gently touched his shoulder. "Peeta?"

He surged awake, and she flinched guiltily. "It's okay, we're okay."

He blinked around the room, taking in their surroundings.

He falls back to the mattress and sighs. "Oh. When I woke up in this room…I just thought."

She smoothes her hand over his back. "I know. I'm here."

He nods, rolling on his side to consider her.

She shuts her eyes tight, ashamed for waking him up. "I had a bad dream."

He ruffles her hair carefully. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"And I feel like I hurt you before we fell asleep."

His hand stops its gentle movement. "Oh."

"And I wanted to explain myself a bit better."

He props himself up on his elbow. "Okay…"

She takes a deep breath and gazes up at the ceiling.

"We're not safe enough now. I don't know if we ever will be."

He nods. "I'm sorry. It's a lot to think about, especially now. I was a little…overexcited."

"A crime for which I can't punish you." she smirks easily, tangling a hand in his hair. "You just scared me tonight. We have a lot more to worry about. And my body's not letting me get pregnant anytime soon."

His eyes look pained at this, and she had meant to comfort him with this knowledge. They stare awkwardly at each other. She wants to reel the words back into her throat; she'd rather choke on them than hear them echo through the air.

He sighs finally.

"We have a big day tomorrow."

"More like today."

"All the more reason to fall asleep."

She sighs, leaning against his shoulder. "I don't think I can fall back asleep."

"Nightmares?"

"Nope; reality."

He grins ruefully, pulling her into a forgiving embrace. "Ugh. The only thing worse than the nightmares." He teases, poking at her sides.

She chuckles softly, curling herself into him.

"We should have Annie bring Finn over to the house." she tries to smooth over the rough patch with a meaningless compromise.

"Stop trying to make me feel better." He grumbles against her temple, pressing a kiss against it. "That's a lovely idea."

She smiles, a small victory won. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. Go to sleep."

"Am I keeping you awake?"

"Yes."

"Good, I can't sleep, so we can both be miserable."

He groans.

She laughs softly, resting her chin on his chest. "Well, tell me a story."

He sighs, threading his fingers with her hair.

"Once there was a man who lived with his wife."

Katniss's head lulls into the crook of his neck, snuggling closer and sighing.

"She died, very young, after getting bit by a snake."

"That's terrible."

"It was. So he travels to hell or the underworld or whatever to get her back. And he charms the Lord of the Dead's wife. She begs her husband to let the girl's soul go. Finally they strike a bargain; he has to walk out of hell with her following. If her looks at her before they reach sunlight, she returns to hell and they'll never see each other again."

"Wow. That seems really simple. It was that easy?"

"Apparently it wasn't. She cries out to him right as they exit the underworld, right as he's in the sun but she's not. He turns around. He sees her one last time before she vanishes."

"What?" she nearly sits up in frustration.

"He didn't have faith."

"What?" she snaps again.

"It's just a story," he rubs her back gently.

"Why'd you tell me that one?"

"I don't know. I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

"I feel manipulated."

"You shouldn't. In the book I read it in, one story is about a girl who turns into a tree to get away from a god's pursuit."

"You read some pretty stupid books."

"Really? Because that's something I could see you doing."

"Nope." She yawns.

"There was also a goddess of the hunt."

"I am not reading any of that crap."

She lies back on the mattress, eyes growing heavy.

He smiles softly, kissing her under the ear.

"I didn't expect you to. I just want us to follow each other without having to turn around."

She shuts her sleepy eyes.

"You don't have to." She says after a long time. "I'm right here."

_A/N I feel like Peeta loves Greek mythology. Am I the only one with this feeling?_

_So the link to my fictionpress story is not working. Message me for the link, it's titled Cash and Slug and written by the same username as my FF account. Please support this story. It's in progress, and needs a little boost._

_This was just a quick update as I sorted through some of the chaos around me. Very hectic life right now. Hope you enjoyed. Sorry updates have been bipolar. _

_Reviews help change that matter._


	43. Chapter 43

She can barely lift her eyelids with her false lashes on them. It gives her a look of petulance she was actually trying to hide.

Her nails are now dagger-sharp black claws a little too close to a muttation's.

Her skin is clear and scrubbed, with darkly painted lips and dark eyes. She looks mature, grown up. Too aged for her taste.

Her gown is nothing Cinna could have come up with, but when she overheard there was a rumor of somebody flipping through his old sketchbooks for ideas, she realized it would be worse to be dressed by him. Dressed by a ghost to talk about ghosts.

The bright glow of every room was blaring against his absence. She for some reason expected him to arrive from around a corner somewhere, carefully holding up a garment bag.

She runs a tentative hand through the waves of her hair, tucked over one of her shoulders and leaving half of her neck bare. She wore a gown remnant of her character, maroon bodice with raging reds and oranges swirling around her skirt like lava. It clings to her waist like a second skin, swooping thin sleeves around her upper arms and leaving her shoulders bare. Her skirt swirls around like smoke. She's made up provocatively, but subtly, like someone had been studying how to make her look sexy as Katniss Everdeen. Styled for her bone structure, coloring, hair, everything was tailored. She didn't think this part would be so hard, being presented by another person's vision of her.

She sighs, staring at her reflection. Everything's been significantly downsized, with Annie and Johanna being prepared at the tables to her left. Johanna's hair is slicked back and she bears rage-red lips. Her gown is black and its single gathered shoulder shows off the athleticism in her limbs. Annie's brown curls are half pulled up in sweeping, gentle braids carefully arranged around her head. Her gown is a celestial blue and gems in the lining reflect light like stars. Her eyes are lined in silver and white glitter. She glows. Johanna looks intimidating. Katniss looks like chaos.

She wobbles on her heels, raking her hand through her cascading hair once again. She has already convinced herself she will fall many, many times.

"Finn apparently is a natural in front of cameras." Annie jokes from her seat, jutting out her chin to her stylist who is rubbing a fair pink blush on her cheeks. "They wanted to do a little five minutes feature with him. I'm surprised how well he took to the attention."

"Is he usually very shy?"

"Yes," Annie ducks her head, only to have it pushed back up to the mirror by her stylist.

Johanna glances up after wiping her lipstick off as soon as her stylist turns her back. "He took to Peeta like a bee to honey."

"That he did." Annie agrees softly.

Katniss folds her hands carefully, trying not to scratch herself with her claws.

"If you want, Annie," she starts carefully, "Peeta and would be so happy to have Finn visit us for a few days. You could come too. Get some air, if you need."

Annie's eyes twitch up to the ceiling. "Hmm. I think I'd like that. For Finn, at least. Poor thing is surrounded by old ladies."

Katniss doesn't know what else to say, so she smiles and tries to walk back and forth without stepping on her gown.

Effie arrives to check their progress, though they have hours before the interview and all they've been told was to sit down, answer the questions and look nice.

Effie rolls her eyes at Katniss's stumbling. "Walk from your hips, not your shoulders. You center your weight like a man."

Katniss glares at her, and tries Effie's method, lamenting in the fact that it helps a great deal. It still feels funny. But she's steadier on her feet.

Johanna smirks at her after her tireless stylist has re-applied her lipstick. Katniss notices her hiding tissues in the bodice of her dress. That lipstick is coming straight off once again.

She suppresses a chuckle, settling on a couch on the opposite side of the make up tables. She crosses her arms boredly. Her nails scratch her forearm. She flinches.

Haymitch wanders in, already mussing up his suit, and Effie scuttles to remedy a crooked bowtie. She picks at his hair, prods his shoulders, it's all a great ordeal.

Katniss studies Annie's patience as she's transformed into a dreamlike, starry cloud. Annie looks like she's beyond a solid state, that touching her would be impossible, that all were unworthy.

She was so beautiful, if only by her tragedy. You couldn't touch her because Finnick had been there. He still felt like he was there, somewhere, swirling around the silver glitter at her bare shoulders. Sometimes she still stared off, her thick arched brows raised as if he was right there, flirting with her, teasing her. Sometimes a reckless smile graced her lips and her head lulled to the side. And it would slip into nothingness, a blank slate that left everyone conscious of her loss. She was the kind of person you had to remind to eat and sleep because there was so much more there, rolling through her mind and spirit and there was no space for everything at once.

Annie's pale face was guarded, her eyes flitting around the room interestedly.

Peeta sweeps into the room, adjusting his cufflinks like a proper gentleman. Katniss can't help but gawk a little, keeping her face as disinterested as she can manage. His suit houses his tall frame perfectly; the dark blue hues bringing out his gold hair and the shadow of beard on his face. His stylist discouraged him from shaving that morning, and the gold whiskers edge out the boyishness of his face.

Katniss bites her lip, eyes widening. Maybe, she would let this be a perk of going through all this trouble. Maybe.

He smirks and leans his hip against the doorway. His posture is damn near perfect; his chest looks broad and strong.

"You look nice, ladies."

Johanna rolls her eyes, lipstick having disappeared again. Her stylist returns and gives a frustrated grunt.

"Katniss looks about ready to wet herself." She calls over her shoulder as the stylist wrestles with her to sit still.

Annie smiles, full of melancholy knowing.

Peeta grins roguishly, prompting a blush from Katniss when he settles on the couch next to her.

"You look positively volcanic." He kisses her hand dramatically. His eyes are dark and they fill her body with a heady feeling.

"You clean up nice." She grunts out, pulling her hand back and accidentally digging her nails into her palm.

"Nervous?" his hand moves to her shoulder carefully. It's perfectly warm against her skin.

She bites her lip, nodding a little.

"Me too," he smiles softly. "But seeing you like this made me forget for a little while."  
She chuckles nervously. "Likewise."

He glances around the room, Johanna is bickering with her poor stylist, Annie seems deep in conversation with someone long gone, and Haymitch and Effie prattle on. No one is paying attention to them.

"I can tell you one thing, at least when this is over…"

His eyes glide over her, dragging the air out of her lungs.

"…there's a lot we can look forward to."

His jacket is slightly drawn to the side, and he has on suspenders. For some reason this makes her stomach flutter.

She leans back against the couch, propping her head up on her arm. She smirks, aware of his eyes on her bare neck.

"You are insatiable."

He grins back sheepishly. "You make me that way."

"And damn proud of it." she glances at Annie, who is staring at them with a raised brow. She turns away, murmuring to herself.

Katniss's heart surges at Annie's look of loss.

Peeta could have left her like that, and she'd be without repair, without evidence of him. No drawings. No lingering smell of bread. No sunlight glow in the morning or sweet summer breeze at night.

She takes his hand in hers, and curls her head carefully under his chin. She sighs against his chest, closing her eyes to prevent being distracted by the glory of Peeta's sapphire blue suit.

He kisses her brow carefully, knowing their raging hormones should be put at bay for a moment.

"We're gonna get through this," he murmurs softer than softly. He mistakes her gratitude for nerves.

She nods numbly. The thought of losing him still knocks her thoughts out cold.

She manages a dry whisper; "I love you."

"I love you too. So, so much."

She smiles in a small way. "And when we're done with this…we'll make it worth the trip out here."

Awkwardly worded, spoken with an abashed stutter, half-mumbled with red cheeks. Her invitation to her bed. And it warms him through his skin, because if she delivered this invitation any other way, she wouldn't be _his _Katniss. He presses his forehead against hers, grunting so softly only she can hear.

"You just made it very, very difficult for me to think about anything else." He groans.

She smiles.

_A/N No one can resist Peeta in a suit. No one. _

_I love writing Annie. She's such a great character, wish she got more development in the books. Goddamn Mockingjay. I feel like I diss that book every chapter, but really, I'm sick of fixing your shit, Suzanne Collins. Kidding. At least I have so many gaps to fill with this story. Gives me something to do. _

_I just wanted to put that boy in a suit. And sexy well-dressed gentleman Peeta is just too much fun. Like a Boss. I was swooning as I wrote this chapter. Suit porn with Peeta. That should be a whole other 40-chapter story on FF. _

_ALSO_

_READ "CASH AND SLUG" ON FICTIONPRESS! Just do it. _


	44. Chapter 44

Her skin tingles with nerves. Anticipation, good and bad, floods her ribcage. Cameras. Crowds. Attention. Peeta.

Her lips slip up into a smile she doesn't want to acknowledge. At least some good will come out of tonight.

He glances at her from where he stands by Annie, and he gives her a small smile.

Katniss's eyes flit around backstage nervously. It's the same place she's been interviewed many times before, every time Peeta's brilliance would save her. She just wants him to make this right, like he always could.

It occurs to her how its strange seeing things not come easily to him. He was so quick and capable. Seeing him writhe and scream on the floor was not something she ever saw coming. It broke her image of him, a little bit.

She wishes it was easier to fix him. She wishes she was whole enough to focus on him.

He meets her eyes again, catching her staring for the fifth time. She draws herself further back into the curtains, letting her eyes hold his, letting her smile imply something warm and curling in her blood.

She hears him clumsily clear his throat and make his excuses to Annie as she vanishes behind the curtain.

She bites her lip as he pushes through the blue velvet.

"You've got me distracted." She admits.

He groans quietly, going the distance between them.

He leans down for a leisurely kiss, holding her hips gently. She whimpers into his mouth and stumbles back, pressing herself to the wall and making herself small. Her hands grip at his shoulders. It's taking so much control to simply stand and accept her affection. He wants to act, to return it in fervor. But now isn't the right time. She clings to him in a manner that makes his blood rush and he has to stop her before this gets out of hand.

He bites her lip a little, not very hard but jarringly. She flinches away.

"Easy…easy…" he restrains her hands gently.

Her eyes are huge and confused. She found them privacy, they had a little time, and she wanted to kiss him. What was so wrong?

His brow creases as he rubs it against hers.

"I've created a monster." He smiles when he says it, but angers her.

"I can't believe you're complaining right now."

Her lips purse challengingly, and he chuckles softly.

"We have to go out for the interview soon." He reminds her, brushing a loose curl out of her eyes.

Her eyes flicker slightly, and he knows why she lured him here.

"You really need a distraction that bad, huh sweetheart?"

She blinks furiously, casting her eyes to the ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His hand smoothes up the back of her arm. "It's okay to be scared."

She glares at him. "I'm not…"

He presses her against the wall again, bringing her close in a way that makes all the air leave her lungs.

"I am." He admits. "This whole day has been eerie. Aside from seeing you all dressed up."

She raises her brow at him, sliding a hand under one of his suspenders and drawing it up and down his torso. "You're telling me."

His mouth twists into his wickedest grin, and she wouldn't want to be anywhere else at this moment.

"It still hurts, that you're simply using me as a distraction."

She can't help but smile. "It makes me feel better." She adds softly, innocently.

Something in him kicks him mentally for their location. God he just wants to take her home.

"Oh, it makes you feel better, does it?" he places a little kiss on the soft underside of her chin.

"Yes." She groans out softly. She loves his voice when they have to be quiet. It rolls through her ears and chills her blood. Their little secrets.

"When we go out there, I don't know how I'm going to get through it." he agrees, pulling his head away a few inches and nodding in consideration. "Maybe if we had something to think about while we went through our interview."

She takes the bait so quickly, surging through to foreplay conversation with so much impatience he can't keep from grinning. "Like what?"

He glances around them, but they're alone in this small section of backstage. Someone's yelling at Johanna on the other side of the curtain. Something about not climbing the light rigging.

He tugs at the fabric of her skirt that sits over her thigh. "I don't know. Maybe I'll be thinking about how we can go back to my room later. This is a very pretty dress. But these skirts might get in the way."

"Hmm?" her eyes are glowing with childish excitement. He loves her with that tingly joy in her veins.

He runs his hands over the silky material, and she curses the layers of the skirt.

His hand pulls one of her legs and raises it to wrap around his hip. She grips his shoulders, nearly losing her footing. He lifts her hair off her neck to nip at her skin.

"It might be easier if I take this dress off of you, you don't mind, do you?"

"Nope."

He wants to laugh at her eagerness. Instead he kisses her hard, letting their breath sync up so their chests rise and fall together.

"What are you thinking about?" he hisses in her ear when he finally pulls away.

She nearly chokes, staring up at him with glimmering eyes and flushed cheeks. He has a good guess of what's running through her mind.

"Think about that. Whenever you're scared. You have me. You'll have me in a little over an hour. All to yourself. Any way you want me. Is that enough distraction for you?"

She nods timidly.

He draws away, despite her whimper of protest.

"Before anyone notices we're gone." He takes her hand, yanking her to a standing position against him.

He gives her a grand, dramatic, heroic kiss that makes her knees buckle, and leads them backstage.

"Just think about fucking me." He murmurs, and her cheeks flush crimson at the word.

He leaves her to help some stagehands wrangle Johanna out of the rafters. She watches his body move in that damn suit. Katniss is flustered, breathless and left hanging

She won't admit to herself she loves it, even a little bit.


	45. Chapter 45

"Five minutes." Someone tells them. The stage is lit up and they're nearly deafened by a roaring audience.

They exchange fearful glances.

Peeta's fingers tangle in hers. They're meager grouping of victors is to be announced one by one to join Caesar onstage. Katniss has a good guess who will be last. She grips Peeta's hand with a terrified force.

Johanna emerges from the folds of one of the curtains, looking a bit dead in the eyes. Haymitch tucks a flask back into his coat after one last gulp. Annie's face is vague and distant.

Peeta turns toward her a bit urgently. They grip each other's hands.

"Just get through this. Think about what I said earlier."

"I'll try." She says with a nervous laugh.

Annie takes the stage first, waving shyly.

He gives her a kiss that feels like it could be their last. This does nothing to calm her down.

Her heartbeat thrums out of control, accelerating with each passing second. She can't breathe.

Johanna stomps past them, hulking her way across the stage.

"It's going to be okay."

She stares at the buttons of his jacket and nods frantically.

She doesn't realize how rapid her breathing is until he lifts her chin to look up at him.

"No one's going to die this time." he has to tell her softly. "No one's controlling us. We're free."

She nods.

No one is going to die. No one is going to die.

She has to roll this idea through her head over and over.

It makes her a bit lightheaded.

No one is going to die.

"And we love each other, and its real, and it's always."

She nods again. Her breathing slows the tiniest bit.

Haymitch brushes past them, without fear. Only rage. He wants a fight.

Her eyes find Peeta's again, and she gives a slight nod, gulping down the bile rising in her throat.

"I'm here."

"I'm right behind you."

"Follow me," he whispers huskily, "I'll lead us out of this."

"Okay, Orpheus," she answers. "Don't look back. Just know I'm with you."

He nods solemnly, and stares deep into her eyes with a flickering look of fear. He turns at the last possible second and strides onto the stage, not as strongly as he once could, but with more determination.

He vanishes from the dark and it is all she can do not to trail behind. Not yet.

Caesar introduces her with a lot of exaggerated words. Grand words. Words of valor and greatness. She bites her lip. She's never felt like this person, this character. Girl on fire. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to thank Cinna for it. Had he not made her so memorable, would things be easier?

Caesar points at her from onstage. No time to think. Just walk.

She wobbles a bit in her high heels. The only thing she can hear in her head is Effie's voice, advising her to walk from her hips, not her shoulders. Simple tasks. Stand up straight, shoulders back. But she does not smile. She will not.

She steps onstage, and the flashes of light explode before her eyes.

She remembers what the bombs felt like.

_A/N Quickie update! Sorry for the abandonment, I've been working on a lot of original stuff lately. I'm still here though! And would love to express my gratitude to all reviewers and followers, new and old! You guys are awesome!_


	46. Chapter 46

Her legs lock at the flashing lights. She wobbles on unsteady joints.

She can hear the explosions. She can hear them.

She can't tell the difference between the joyous, exalting screams of her fans from the only other types of screams she knows.

Smoke and chaos, it is nothing but smoke and chaos. Fire consumes. It burns. It devours all, choking her with its smoke. She can't breathe.

Peeta turns back over his shoulder as he strides towards the couch. Katniss has made her entrance; he can't help but grin at the thunderous applause. They still love her.

The smile drops from his face when he sees her frozen dead in her tracks.

He pauses, trying to catch her eye. She stares dumbly out at the audience.

He holds out a hand to her, gesturing grandly in her direction. All she has to do is take his hand. All she has to do was take a few steps on her own.

_Look at me, look at me,_ he pleads in his mind, sending fervent glances her way.

She doesn't, and a fraction of a second too long passes before the crowd gets antsy. This seems to terrify her more.

Without thinking, he strides back to her and takes her hand, leading her to her seat next to him.

Her eyes are vacant until she feels the warmth of his hand around her. She locks her gaze on his face. She is deathly pale.

He stares back into her eyes and offers the softest little twitch of a smile.

"It's okay," he mouths at her. She wakes up to her surroundings and takes a deep breath.

The crowd loves their little display, though they can't understand it fully. Once their hands touch, the screams explode around them. It's so deafening. On the couch, Annie looks stricken, Haymitch pulls at his collar, and Johanna has her fists clenched.

"So, Katniss, I can see you were a little hesitant to join us. Got any other big plans tonight?" Caesar Flickerman laughs, breaking the ice. His hair is dark brown. Katniss is stunned by this. She made a secret bet with Johanna it was going to be purple. Johanna bet orange.

She stutters for a minute, remembering he asked her a question. "Not really." She answers charmlessly.

"We're about ready to go home," Peeta slides in effortlessly, and a word like "we" is a powerful one. The crowd jeers good-naturedly.

"Oh yes, back in old District Twelve. What could be back there waiting for you two in District Twelve?"

"Oh, you know. Its home. It's all we need. The bakery, the forest, I mean, it's where we grew up."

_To maintain a shred of normalcy_, she wants to add. _To forget the hell you people put us through._

"Katniss, is it strange returning to the capitol?" No eyes turned to her because they've already been glued to her face. Every pair of eyes. She can feel them forcing down on her.

"Strange is one way to put it," she answers bluntly. Peeta grips her hand again, beckoning her close for a whisper. His hands clasp over their microphones, blocking his words from being overheard.

"Remember what I told you to think about, to get through this?"

His voice is thick and deep.

She nearly forgot the backstage display.

"Yes," she answers breathlessly.

He leans in so close to her ear she can't see his face. "I want to make you forget this ever happened. _I will make you forget._"

She sits there, stunned, for a millisecond, before turning back to Caesar. "Being back reminds me of what's important. What I took for granted. Honestly, this is how many interviews we've had Caesar? Four? Unheard of."

She straightens her spine with a confident smile.

The crowd applauds appreciatively. She bites back a proud smile. "Each time I came back, I knew it would be my last. Against all odds, every time, the unlikeliest victor of all came back to take the stage one more time. So here I am, with nothing held over my head or lurking around the corner, no threats, so yes. Being back here is very strange."

Peeta gives her a lopsided grin. God, she was so gorgeous when she fought back.

Caesar laughs, "And what an honor it is to have you back, Girl on Fire."

Thunderous, thunderous applause. She flinches at the noise, but manages a wave.

Caesar turns the focus away from her once the crowd has died down.

"Johanna, what have you learned from this experience?"

Experience. That's one way to put it.

Johanna balks for only a moment, her cat-like eyes narrowing. "That people will never stop surprising you." she grinds out of a tense jaw.

Surprising you with their ability to destroy. She doesn't have to say it, everyone on the couch nods to themselves, taking the exact same meaning from her words.

The conversation is barbed, forced at best. No one really wants to be there; this is all a big show. Without the fight for their lives, they have more to push back about.

"Haymitch, you're looking a little pale, are you sure I can't offer you a little…" Caesar mimes a flask. Audience members break apart laughing. Haymitch smirks back with a sheepish shrug. "Hey, Caesar, you're buying," he returns.

Annie softly answers questions about her son, avoiding any mention of Finnick.

Peeta chats about the bakery, sliding his fingers up and down Katniss's spine to remind her of his task for her. And she thinks about him. Not him with her. Just him. His body and smile and hands. Just the light that flows around him, warming her and keeping her safe.

She can tell his smile his forced. He was always the better actor, but she knows him well enough. His eyes are weary.

Johanna slouches in her seat and refuses to answer her questions in complete sentences, more like one word responses. When she's offered a statement to comment on instead of an actual question, she simply waits until a question is rephrased from the words. She glowers. Katniss is jealous of her disregard, her fearless rage, her bare lips.

Peeta gets her though the first half of the interview. Johanna and Annie, however, get her through the second half.

_A/N Hey guys, I'm back. Part 2 of the Interview will be up soon. Sorry for my negligence. _


	47. Chapter 47

_A/N So here's the plan, Stan. I'm finishing up this story. Shh, Shh, Shh… don't ask when. Eventually. The end is nigh. _

_HOWEVER. I wrote this story as I went, which is how I write, but it doesn't make for a perfect work. I am currently reworking, editing, fixing typos and clunky bits of the whole damn thing, especially the first half. I had my moments of banana fingers while typing this mother up. So. Consider the Director's Cut of this story will be in a transition state. I'll probably announce any edits or fixed chapters on my tumblr, but your safest bet is I'll make an announcement in chapter form here when everything's all set. I've done this for the first five chapters. For those of you who like re-reading. If only for the smut. _

_So, good idea, bad idea, opinions? I do want to fix up what I fudged a little bit._

_Anyway, for book reviews, playlists, and of course plenty of Fanfiction, you can find me as BadOldWest on tumblr, URL LyresandLasers. Stop by, chat me up. _

After about an hour of tense conversation, Annie's eyes grow wide and manic. She's separate from her son, her touchstone of safety and normalcy, and she's back onstage.

Katniss follows the older woman's gaze, glued vacantly to the wings of the stage. She's looking for someone.

It occurs to her. The last time this happened to Annie, someone was waiting offstage. Someone who loved her. Someone who wanted to take care of her.

It breaks her heart to realize Finnick isn't there to guide Annie home.

Annie's eyes are wide and anxious. She fiddles with the skirt of her dress.

"Annie, tell us about your son, I hear he's walking now?" Caesar smiles broadly. The audience coos. Katniss bites back a bitter smirk. Babies. Always a crowd pleaser.

Annie still stares offstage, her eyes flickering back and forth nervously.

"Finn?" she says faintly.

The audience collectively sighs in sympathy. Baby Finn. Named for his poor dead father.

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence as Annie can't sort out where she is. Finnick is offstage, Finn isn't born yet.

"I was worried Peeta was going to steal him," Katniss cuts in, reaching over Haymitch to pat Annie's knee. "We had dinner together last night and Peeta just fell in love."

Peeta and a baby. Peeta having a soft spot for children. Peeta bonding with poor dead Finnick's son. The audience can't even contain their feelings.

Annie's eyes flicker to Katniss, who is not someone she knew when Finnick was offstage. She glances at Peeta and Johanna. Time resets, and her Finnick is back to being poor dead Finnick. Her eyes uncloud. "Oh, yes, Finn. Just like his father. He's so smart. He is walking, running already. They grow up so fast." The words are so obviously rehearsed. But Annie says them firmly, calmly, and with an underlying ferocity. She and Finn are going to be okay. The capitol cut away the thing they were supposed to love most. But mother had child, and child had mother, damn it; that would be enough.

Katniss saw it. The flicker in Annie's eye. The fire.

She looks straight at the audience, then the cameras, then dead in Caesar's eyes, as she says; "He is the most important thing in my life."

In that moment, with her usually soft voice razor sharp and leaden, she _dared _everyone in Panem to even try to take Finn away from her.

Katniss can not believe the absolute fearlessness this woman had; baby in one arm, sword in the other. It occurs to Katniss how she's going to be alright. She doesn't have a ghost on the sidelines. She has Peeta, gripping her hand so tightly it aches. She glances at him. He's shaking to suppress the urge to cry, to rage, to avenge poor dead Finnick. To take him back from these people who used him; now pretending to mourn.

She places her other hand on his tense arm, pushing him gently to lean back on the couch.

"Better not let Peeta get in the way of Annie and Finn again," she jokes cautiously, smiling softly at Annie.

Annie nods, sitting up straight and tall. Fiercer than Katniss has ever managed.

The audience calms at Katniss's joke. Peeta picks up on this and milks the reaction. "The kid's faster than me. He's going places."

"Sprinting there, it would seem." Caesar jokes cheerily. Katniss lets her lip curl up at the poor quip.

Johanna raises her eyes mischievously, and Katniss cringes, knowing what's coming. "When are you two having one of your own?"

"We're focusing on _us_ now," Peeta stresses the audience's favorite word; "Katniss and I had a lot to sort out after the war. We're just keeping things simple and slow."

A collective "awwwww" fills the room. They love this simpleminded pair, with their uncomplicated love and their gushing romantic story. Too bad it wasn't real.

"Starcrossed Lovers of District 12 still going strong. Glad to hear it. I think the most important question here tonight is the story of victory." Caesar reads this from his prompter. "And you are some of the last of your species. So tell us; what is it like, really like to be a victor of the Hunger Games?"

Awful. The look on every victor's face clearly states it; awful.

Haymitch snorts, rolling his eyes. "It's almost like being queen for a day, without actually ruling or…"

"It's not a victory," Johanna interrupts icily. "It's not glory. It's like being beaten for two weeks straight for a crime you didn't commit and then being allowed to walk away. Except you commit worse crimes while being beaten, and everyone exalts those crimes. Wrong is right. As you walk away from what you did while being tortured, they celebrate you. I want you to realize; _we killed people._ Kids. Hell, now Katniss is older than they'll ever be. Do you even know what it's like to be responsible for something like that? To not have any choice in it? And sure, we had things to live for. Family, and love, and maybe glory. Maybe that mattered. But it mattered to twenty three other kids, and I guess they still didn't have enough to live for. We beat them because we were the most cunning, resilient, selfish, and _lucky_ animals we could be." Johanna stands up. "That is what it feels like to win."

The crowd is silent. Stunned. Katniss can feel the tension stretch until it nearly breaks. Even the victors stare at Johanna in awe and respect.

Annie begins to clap. Her hands smack together slowly, and then she falls into enthusiastic but blank-faced applause. Katniss joins. Then Haymitch and Peeta.

The victors rise to their feet and applaud Johanna, who is breathing heavily through her noise and shaking. The audience is stunned silent.

There is nothing left to say.

"I think that's all we have time for, Caesar," Katniss adds, grabbing Peeta's arm. He stares down at her, terrified. Of course order can not be restored. The interview can not go on. There is no way it can be brought back from where Johanna has taken this. Annie smirks at this, and begins to walk offstage, taking Haymitch's arm like a proper lady. Effie would be proud, if she wasn't nearly having a stroke backstage. Johanna blows a big kiss, finishing off the last touches of her red lipstick in her hand. Peeta doesn't look at the audience, but leads Katniss off with a protective arm around her.

The victors got their last bit of bitter rebellion out of their systems. Now, they have to face the consequences of spitting in the face of the capitol.

_The capitol isn't the same anymore, it's weaker._ Katniss assures herself. It's weaker. And hopefully not as venomous, because they've certainly upset a snake.


End file.
